


Regulus' Redemption

by remus_moon (camelot_king)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Abuse, Angst, Bonding, Brotherly Bonding, Brothers, Character Study, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Fluff and Angst, Good Regulus Black, Hurt/Comfort, LGBTQ Themes, POV Regulus Black, Period-Typical Homophobia, Regulus Black Lives, Regulus Black-centric, Regulus runs away eventually, Sirius Black & James Potter Friendship, Sirius is a good brother, but also can be a dick, sirius runs away
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-22
Updated: 2020-11-14
Packaged: 2021-03-07 18:14:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 23
Words: 56,047
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26591989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/camelot_king/pseuds/remus_moon
Summary: Sirius runs away. Regulus starts to understand what it means to be a Black, and he isn't sure if he wants to be a part of that definition either."It happened in an instant.One moment, their Mother was screaming, magic whirling around her in a sort of destructive tornado, and the next moment his brother was out of the house. Suddenly there was no defiant voice to match the pure rage-- only a small click of a window latch and he was gone, venturing into the cold night and leaving the house ringing with an unfamiliar silence.He hadn’t looked back, not once."
Relationships: James Potter/Lily Evans Potter, Regulus Black & Sirius Black, Regulus Black & Walburga Black, Regulus Black/Original Character(s), Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 226
Kudos: 413





	1. Blood

It happened in an instant.

One moment, their Mother was screaming, magic whirling around her in a sort of destructive tornado, and the next moment his brother was out of the house. Suddenly there was no defiant voice to match the pure rage-- only a small click of a window latch and he was gone, venturing into the cold night and leaving the house ringing with an unfamiliar silence.

Regulus had watched from the doorway of his bedroom, completely frozen.

He hadn’t looked back, not once. Sirius always had looked back, before, when he would sneak out of the house with some friends, or run out after a fight— his grey eyes would meet Regulus’, almost reassuringly. Somehow Regulus knew, unlike the other times he had run out, it was for good.

He swallowed hard against the clench of panic clawing it’s way up to his throat.

His mother was making her way down the long hallway, her wand drawn, strangely statuesque in her insanity. She wasn’t going to let Sirius go that easily. Regulus instinctively stepped out of the shadows, standing between his mother and the window that Sirius had just disappeared through.

Any spark of defiance shriveled out of his posture immediately at the sight of the expression on Walburga’s face. She looked almost elegant in the splash of moonlight lighting up her face, but she was twitching erratically, eyes wild, breath uneven.

Regulus stood perfectly still.

Neither moved.

Regulus couldn’t imagine how frightening it would have been to be Sirius just moments prior when she was screaming.

_You coward._

"You will never leave me," she said scathingly, a deranged smile creeping onto her face, wand still raised, "you never can leave me. Is that right?"

Regulus shifted on his feet but said nothing. He shook his head mechanically, heart beating fast.

"Answer me," Mother ordered. Soft, deadly, and so different from the tone she used with Sirius.

With Sirius, it was all screeching and ranting and the roar of an angered lion. With Regulus, it was almost poisonous, like a snake waiting to strike. She never needed to shout with Regulus because he could feel the threat in his bones.

‘ _Coward_ ', Sirius had said with his scathing gaze when Regulus stood silent, frozen, watching helplessly as his brother endured his Mother’s insults.

‘ _Coward_ ’ said the stony expression of his Mother. Waiting. Watching.

There was no more room for a mistake in the Black family.

Regulus would have to do.

Regulus took a deep breath, trying to clear his face of all emotion.

"I won’t leave, Mother," Regulus said quietly, voice shaking, feeling suffocated by her presence— by the cold, dark walls closing in on him. He was resisting the itch to run back into his room, close the door to all his problems— and pretend that Sirius had taken the time to say goodbye.

_He hadn’t looked back once._

Mother’s face contorted in what could have been a smile but seemed more like an animalistic snarl. Regulus looked down, feeling further and further away from his brother, and wishing he was far, far away from the life he was living. A cracking sound broke the tense silence. Regulus flinched, half expecting mother to take out her rage on him, but it was merely the window latch magically sliding back into place and sealing itself into the wall.

Locking it for good.

"Come with me," Mother ordered sharply.

She led him to the side room, and with a sinking feeling, the two found themselves next to the famous Black tapestry— a map of noble names that spanned back centuries.

'A map’, their Father would say curtly, ‘of purity in all things. And impurities will be removed.’

"Burn it," Walburga hissed.

"Burn what?" Regulus managed to spit out, already knowing the answer.

Mother said nothing, merely handing him her wand. Regulus gulped.

"He is no longer your brother," Walburga stated shortly as if she had never been Sirius’ mother in the first place, "he is a freak, a blood traitor, and a stain on this noble family.” Regulus took the wand with a trembling hand, staring at the letters that spelled out Sirius’s name in cold, imposing script.

Any other Wizarding family would probably say that it was just wallpaper, but this particular piece was writhing with life. Blood. Magic. Insanity. The essence of everything Black.

And if you were burned, you weren’t coming back.

“Burn it,” Walburga ordered again, nails digging into his shoulder.

“Are- are you sure,” Regulus started, trying for a diplomatic, monotone voice but failing miserably, “he comes back sometimes, and if I burn him it will— “

“Are you questioning my judgment?” Walburga questioned, voice edging on the same, sharp note.

“No, Mother,” Regulus said quickly, gripping the wand harder.

He looked very hard at Sirius’s name, trying to pretend that it was just letters and not a whole, wonderfully imperfect human.

Black.

Sirius Black.

His brother.

He had been everything a Black should be— fiery, brave, powerful. He just HAD to be on the wrong side. He just HAD to leave Regulus behind.

_Nobody’s going to save you_ , Regulus thought to himself silently. The wand was wobbling his grip, and he could feel the glassy sheen distorting his gaze.

_He was never coming back._

“In— incendio.” He stuttered out finally.

A weak stream of sparks hit the name. The wallpaper bubbled slightly, the ’S’ in the Sirius seeming to warp— but it didn’t burn.

“Incendio,” he said again more clearly.

It felt like his whole body was trembling, his throat was closing off, like some other force was taking over his body.

_He was never going to see him again._

A slightly more powerful spark of magic emerged. The wallpaper fluttered to life again, in a slow smolder. Nothing close to burning it off that damn tree.

Regulus let out a choked sort of gasp.

After an instant, the wand was snatched out of Regulus’ trembling hands.

“You,” Walburga said flatly, black eyes seeming to darken, “are a _weakling_.”

Before Regulus could even react, his world was exploding in pain— every nerve in his body seeming to react to an electrical shock, the floor was meeting his back in an instant. His limbs moved on their own accord, trying to curl away from the woman before—

“CRUCIO!” Walburga screeched, eyes dancing with rage, stance firm, something like satisfaction creeping into her deranged smile.

He dug his nails deep into the carpet, gritting his teeth, before dissolving into screams again. He closed his eyes, trying to ignore away the colors dancing behind his lid, the blood boiling under his skin, the lack of control.

He didn’t know how long it had been of the same, blinding hurt.

Half of his screams were because of the pain of the curse.

Half were what had clawed out of him from deep within.

The pain of being unwanted.

And after what seemed like an eternity, all was silent again.

Regulus panted, reaching up with careful hand to his lip.

He had bitten it so hard it had broken skin. He stared down at the blood staining his fingertips, before turning, minutely to look up at his mother.

She was the epitome of calm once more, a grim look on her face.

Regulus blinked hard, trying to force the constellations of stars out of his vision, push down the well of emotions in his chest, pull himself back to consciousness.

Purity.

He curled away from it.

He had never been enough for it.

“That,” Walburga said hoarsely, “is how you perform a spell. You must MEAN it.”

Regulus forced himself to nod, to mumble a warped response, and even that caused a jolt of pain to push up his shoulder. He twitched as Walburga's eyes narrowed.

She hadn’t even broken a sweat, looking almost bored.

His father was probably still in his office reading, unconcerned that one of his sons was never returning and the other was screaming for dear life in the other room.

_You coward._

Sirius would get up.

Sirius would get up and argue.

Sirius would—

Regulus managed to pull himself to his feet, stumbling slightly.

But he said nothing.

Where there had been panic, there now was a deep emptiness and the thrum of pain.

Walburga pushed the wand into his bloody palm. Regulus stared down at the slender piece of wood, one responsible for so much pain-- so much suffering. And just like that, the well that had been rising in his chest seemed to freeze.

_He hadn't even said goodbye._

“Incendio.” He whispered levelly— cold and unwavering.

And this time, the name burst into flames without hesitation, leaving a dark scorch mark behind.


	2. Loose Ends

Regulus lay in his bed, muscles twitching and the taste of coppery dried blood on his lips, staring at the dark ceiling. 

  
Silent.

  
After he had burned the name, his mother had taken her wand back, fiddling it serenely through her fingers-- just like Sirius did when he was contemplating something. Sirius would have resented the comparison.

Then, she cursed him again.

“For luck.” she had said, almost apologetically, a doting look in her eyes, “you must learn the value of a good curse.” 

  
It was far too quiet after that, without Sirius wandering about in his room, fiddling with his beat-up cassette player or creeping out his small window. After a fight like this, Sirius would have stomped about the house, angry and annoyed and proud. 

  
Regulus was none of those things. 

  
“Your father and I are going out tonight,” Walburga had told him curtly, looking disdainfully at his form lying still on the bed, and as an afterthought, “do try to look presentable, we have guests tomorrow.” 

  
_Presentable._

  
Resentment curled in his chest. They weren’t even worried about him leaving, too. Who would be, really, after looking at how pathetic he was?

_You will never leave me. You CAN never leave me._

So he was alone. Really, truly, alone. With a sigh, he peeled himself off of his bed, glancing down at the sheets covered with little red stains. 

He glanced down, taking inventory on the tiny, stinging cuts covering his skin-- courtesy of his mother.

  
Cutting curse.  
It was surprisingly vindictive, even for her. 

  
He painstakingly walked down the hall, opening the small cupboard where he knew the pain potions were (the Blacks had always had a great need for them).

“ _Fuck_.”

The cupboard, usually filled to the brim, was gone-- filled with empty vials and dust.   
Regulus swore again, slamming the cupboard closed with a snap. 

It echoed slightly throughout the house before it fell silent again. 

  
Regulus swallowed the lump in his throat. 

He and Sirius weren’t close. But after too many nights like these, it was a game of survival. 

Sometimes, Sirius stocked up pain potions in his room, for when things weren’t their best.

  
Sirius.   
_His not-brother._

  
He shook thought from his mind, methodically making his way down the hall, and stopping at Sirius’ room. 

  
His hand hesitated on the knob before he pushed his way in.

Everything was in disarray, almost like he had never left. His clothes were scattered on his bed, a record player was tucked on his desk, his stupid posters were staring leeringly down at him. 

It was all so SIRIUS that Regulus almost turned around and left. 

Instead, he made his way slowly to the desk, looking through a stack of letters piled neatly-- the only semblance of organization in the entire room.

He scowled, staring down at the letters all signed “Cheers, James” or, inexplicably, “Prongs”. He sifted through the letters, taking note of the sheer amount of letters that James had sent.

There was no talk of leaving.  
There had been no plan, at least on James’ side. 

But that didn’t stop the slightest bit of jealousy to creep into his heart. 

  
He stopped in an instant, when another paper, a little off to the side on the desk, caught his eye. He picked it up slowly, eyes scanning the page. 

It was in Sirius’ handwriting. Scrawled quickly. Curiously, unsent.

_James--_   
_things are getting bad here_   
_might pop over to your place if that’s alright_   
_worried about Reg and I_

  
And in smaller, more insecure letters:

_we can go somewhere else too if it’s a bad time_

_Sirius_

  
Regulus folded the letter quickly, tucking it in his pocket, and savoring the slightest bit of care his brother had had for him. 

  
_Reg and I._   
_‘We’._   
_Reg and I._

  
“You fucking idiot,” Regulus muttered, not sure if he was talking to his brother or to himself-- and for the first time in the night, the tears he had been pushing down for so long were falling silently down his face.

Sirius HAD thought of him, no matter how briefly.  
They would have left together.  
They could have left together.

  
But Sirius was scared too.   
So he had run before he could take Regulus with him.

Moving almost out of his own body, he reached down, picking up a handful of Sirius’ clothes. They smelled like Muggle cigarettes and cheap cologne. He shook loose an old T-Shirt with the word ‘Queen’ inscribed in majestic letters. 

That had been one of his favorites.

  
He reached behind Sirius’ bed, where he knew his Hogwarts trunk-- stock full of unfinished Summer homework-- was. Breathing raggedly, he opened the trunk, taking note of his Hogwarts uniform and even his WAND tucked carefully in its pocket.

  
Christ, he hadn’t even been able to pack his wand. 

After a moment of shocked silence, Regulus feverishly stuffed as much of Sirius’ clothes, the letters, and everything else that the old trunk could fit, before fumbling it closed. He pulled it up with a wince of pain at the motion, rolling it back to his room, before letting it drop with a thunk.

  
Staring at it.   
Wondering if Walburga would burn it. 

  
Sirius had left with nothing but the clothes on his back running from the end of a wand-- 

but before that, he was worried about Regulus. 

  
_Reg and I._

  
Regulus pulled out the letter again, tracing over the letters with his finger before crumpling it in his fist. 

And suddenly, the walls were closing in again. The house was too quiet, too dangerous empty, too--- 

“Fuck it,” Regulus whispered to himself, before he pulled on a coat in one swift motion, stuffed his wand in his pocket, and ventured out into the cold, misty night dragging Sirius’ trunk behind him. 

  
Sirius deserved that much. 


	3. Mist

It was when he was halfway down the street that he began to question his uncharacteristically bold actions. His parents were out to dinner, sure, so technically he could make it back in time before they noticed--

He shook that thought out of his head too. 

Sirius needed his trunk.  
_And Regulus needed Sirius._

So he plowed on, shivering in the thick, misty fog, the cuts covering his body raw and angry at his every movement, his muscles tired and weak from the Cruciatus curse.

  
He felt old-- much older than fourteen.   
_Nearly fifteen_ , he told himself, trying to rationalize the whole situation.

Surely, fourteen-nearly-fifteen was the age that all parents toughened up a bit. 

Besides, Sirius had never given Walburga the satisfaction of screaming or crying when HE was cursed-- even when he was younger. He was always stiff and proud and angry and all the things Regulus hadn’t dared to be. 

‘ _You’re just a weakling_ ’ Walburga’s voice echoed in the back of his head. 

Yes, that was it.

He thought of James-- particularly when Sirius was around James. He was always more comfortable around _them_ than Regulus had ever seen him. Regulus sighed, trying to clear his mind and focus on the task at hand.

_Find James. Return the trunk._  
_Find James. Return the trunk._  
_Find James. Return the trunk._

The only issue was he had no idea where James Potter’s house was, or if Sirius had even made it there.

“Damn it,” Regulus hissed, overwhelmed, walking even faster, further into the mist and further away from the Grimmauld Place, until he had no idea what street he was on in the first place, “damn you, Sirius, you absolute moron!” 

  
“You alright, kid?” the low voice prodded carefully from right behind him, causing Regulus to nearly jump out of his skin and flick his wand out in an instant. 

The muscular, middle-aged man was wearing what could have been dark ragged robes over strange muggle clothes, eyeing him up and down with wandering dark eyes. There was a long, jagged scar extending its way from his eyebrow to his lip. Regulus resisted the urge to take a step back.

“It’s alright then, kid, no need to pull a wand on me.” the man continued with a placating smile, confirming Regulus’ suspicion that the man was indeed a wizard. 

The man took a step closer, eyes flicking down to his trunk.

“I’m fine,” Regulus replied coolly, gripping the cold handle of Sirius’ trunk harder. He shivered harder. The mist that kept him so perfectly concealed was soaking into his hair, clothes, and every single cut on his body.

  
He had never been so cold in his life.

  
The man chuckled, his dark hair flopping over one eye.

“There isn’t any place open at this hour,” the man commented quietly, “I’ll admit, you’ve... got me curious.”

“I’m headed somewhere,” Regulus snapped, trying to keep on walking, but he stumbled slightly-- his muscles already stiffening up from standing out in the cold, his injuries screaming at him again. The man reached forward in an instant, steadying him, and noticing.

He didn’t let go.

“You aren’t gonna get very far like that, kid,” he pointed out, “I could help you get where… wherever you’re going.” 

The man glanced down again. Regulus shifted away from him uncomfortably.

“I’m fine, thanks,” he said politely, inwardly squirming, “actually--” he started, struck by an idea.

“Do you happen to have an owl… or-- or know where I can Floo? I need to contact… someone?” he asked, still awkwardly leaning away from the man.

“I have an owl back at my house,” the man said casually, “it’s right around the corner.” 

  
Of course, Regulus knew it was a terrible idea. 

But it was cold, dark, he was injured and to his chagrin-- the man was right. 

  
He wasn’t getting anywhere on his own two feet. 

  
And so he allowed himself to fall into step with the man, trying to memorize the streets they are weaving through, feeling more and more like he had made a very poor decision.

_Carver Street._  
_Church Lane._  
_Park Road._  
_An McCarthy's liquor shop._

“The name’s Avery,” the man was saying softly. Regulus grunted, not encouraged at all to give the man his name. 

“A pleasure,” he lied, looking disdainfully at Avery’s hand on his elbow and keeping both the trunk and his wand in a firm grip. Avery just chuckled. 

“Here we are, kid,” Avery commented, large hand migrating from Regulus’ elbow to his shoulder. The entrance to Avery’s house was dark, unassuming, but... respectable. 

“Alright,” Regulus muttered tersely, through gritted teeth. Avery’s hand never left his shoulder as he unlocked the house, and they ventured in. 

The door immediately swung shut and locked on its own. 

Regulus whirled around, breath catching in his throat.

  
“Force of habit,” Avery said casually, “used to forget to lock my door all the time, so I did a quick charm on it.” 

“Really.” Regulus grit out, shrugging out of Avery’s grip and backing toward the door. There was something strange about the man… something that Regulus couldn’t quite put his finger on.

“Not so fast, kid,” Avery said softly, and with a sharp whistle, a dark grey owl with wispy wings was fluttering into the room. 

“Th-thanks,” Regulus said quietly, shifting down to open the trunk, dig out a piece of paper, and for once, grateful that Sirius had muggle pens instead of quills. 

He clicked it open, conscious of Avery watching his every move, and quickly scribbled down his note, suddenly thankful he'd remembered a few landmarks along the way.

_Sirius--_  
_If you get this meet me outside of the muggle McCarthy's liquor shop when you can. This owl isn't mine so don't reply_

_I've got your trunk_

After a moment of hesitation staring down at his shaky handwriting he added:

_I'm alright_  
_Reg_

  
He fastened it to the owl with trembling fingers.

"Thank you," he said shortly, voice coming out high and sharp, edging away from Avery and toward the door, "I-- I have to go now."

Avery's hand shot out, grabbing his wrist.

"Stay here," he ordered softly, "you'll wait here. With me."

"Let go of me," Regulus said sharply, trying to yank out of his grip. 

Avery just took one step forward, something strange in his beady gaze. There was a tangle-- Avery had gripped the back of his coat but Regulus simply yanked himself out of it, and, moving with surprising speed-- stomping hard on his foot, jimmying the lock and hurtling out the door, Sirius' trunk bumping along loudly behind him.

He vaguely registered Avery's yell behind him but kept on running-- crisscrossing through the streets, not sure if the man was pursuing him.

The lights in front of McCarthy's liquor flickered green, and Regulus could have cried in relief. 

He sank into the bench, shaken the spurt of adrenaline vanishing in an instant to be replaced with pain. He dizzily glanced down at the blood and the water soaking through his shirt and hoisted the trunk onto the bench with him.

_It’s too damn cold._

He put his head in his hands, trembling and nauseous. 

  
"Calm down," he muttered to himself, teeth chattering, "calm down, calm down, calm down."

_What if he doesn't come?_  
_What if Avery comes back?_  
_What if--_

With shaking hands, he popped open the trunk again, pulling out one of Sirius’ muggle sweatshirts, pulling it on with difficulty, wiping some of the wet hair out of his eyes.

_Sirius will get that letter_ , he told himself sternly, _he'll get the letter, and he'll come find me_. 

There was nothing to be done but to wait.


	4. Sirius

Regulus hugged his knees to his chest in one hand and held Sirius’ trunk in an iron grip in the other. 

He had memorized every detail of the little McCarthy’s liquor shop. The flickering green sign seemed to blink in intervals, and after a while, the lights inside had gone out; the rustle of trash bags getting taken out quietly narrated the night. 

To his relief, no one seemed to take notice of him after that-- there was only the occasional person making their way home, or a slew of cars driving by with rhythmic (and distinctly Muggle) music booming.

His parents would be home by now, Regulus knew. Going back would be hell-- but he couldn’t help but wonder if leaving would be hell too, the way things were going. 

He had to wonder-- where did James even live? Wouldn’t an owl be able to fly a little faster, even on a foggy night like this? 

And even worse--

What if they were all sleeping and Sirius didn’t receive the letter until morning?

He stared up at the sky, curling deeper into Sirius’ sweatshirt and pulling the hood over his head-- which had briefly provided warmth before it too soaked through. He sighed, closing his eyes. 

The shivering had stopped ages ago, only to be replaced by the feeling that his body had gone numb.

“ _Regulus?_ ” 

Regulus’ eyes snapped open, hand leaping to his wand, and he turned to see a very confused Sirius-- who looked mercifully dry, and in a new pair of what Regulus assumed to be James’ clothes.

Regulus opened his mouth, “um-- I--”   
He looked down. 

He’d been waiting so long that he had almost forgotten the purpose of the whole ordeal.

Sirius’s trunk.

  
“I g-got your things,” he whispered needlessly, letting go of the trunk handle for the first time in ages and massaging his fingers back to life. Why was it so damn cold?

“I just-- y-you didn’t leave with anything--so I thought- I thought I’d--”

“God-- Regulus, _what did they do_?” 

In one swift, motion Sirius was grabbing his shoulders, light fingertips touching his cheek and coming back red.  
  
Regulus blinked owlishly, having forgotten about the dried blood on his lips. 

“N-nothing,” he lied softly, flush rising in his cheeks, “Um…sorry I c-couldn’t grab everything but--” 

“ _Forget about the trunk_!” Sirius shouted, causing Regulus to nearly jump out of his seat in surprise. 

“Shit-- sorry, Regulus--” Sirius immediately backtracked, “Reg,”

And to Regulus’ immense surprise, Sirius’s face seemed to crumple-- his eyes were shimmering under the streetlight, hands balled into fists. Then, two strong arms were wrapping around him-- he could feel Sirius’ shaky breaths on his shoulder. 

He’d hadn’t hugged Sirius in a long, long time. 

Regulus let out a deep breath, gleaning in some warmth from the boy for a moment, and allowing himself a moment to feel something again. 

“How long have you been out here? You’re freezing--” Sirius released him, hands reaching up to cover Regulus’ frozen ones. 

“I-- I--I don’t know--” Regulus started feverishly, wondering if this moment was even real, “if you want me to-- to go back--” 

“Why the fuck would I want you to--” Sirius started, crouching down more to look Regulus in the eye before his eyes fell on Regulus’ hands, which were both littered with cuts. He gasped, and even that made Regulus flinch back. 

“ _What did she cast?_ ” Sirius asked forcefully, anger simmering in his dark eyes.

“S-sorry, I don’t know wh- what that one was,” he said honestly, looking away from Sirius’ murderous face, “but it’s f-fine, it doesn’t even hurt that bad-” 

“ _Did she cast anything else?_ ” Sirius asked sharply, “Reg- I- _please,_ I need to know.” 

Regulus hesitated a moment, before he nodded, retreating further into the damp sweatshirt, the painful memories of this evening back at the forefront of his hazy mind. He swallowed hard, looking down at the sidewalk. 

“Crucio,” he said carefully, voice hardly audible, “s-she cast the Cruciatus curse.” 

“ _She what?_ ”

He couldn’t even bring himself to look into Sirius’ furious eyes at the words, ears ringing, and the emotions of the night culminating into his uneven, panicked breaths, the feeling that the whole world was spinning too fast, 

  
and suddenly he was back in Sirius’ arms again-- whose angry voice had faded and now was whispering reassurances. 

“I’m not going anywhere, you hear me? You’re coming with me, alright?” Sirius was whispering. Regulus just buried his face further into Sirius’ shoulder. 

“Arido vapore,” a different, gentle voice intoned softly from behind, and he and his clothes immediately were bone dry and wonderfully warm.

He looked up warily to see an older man that looked very much like James Potter-- with the same eyes and glasses, but his hair a shade lighter. 

“Reg, this is Charlus, James’ Dad.” Sirius was saying soothingly, and it was then that Regulus realized he was unconsciously edging away from the man, “it’s alright, he came with me to make sure you were fine too.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Regulus,” Charlus said, taking one step forward and sitting down next to Regulus. 

“S-sorry,” Regulus said finally, wiping his eyes self-consciously, “I didn’t mean to-- I had to b-borrow an owl--” 

“You’re not bothering me at all,” Charlus cajoled gently, “I only wish we’d gotten your letter a bit sooner.” 

Though the man was looking intensely at him, he had a welcoming, honest presence-- nothing like Avery, or like his Mother. He could see why Sirius, who usually disliked adults, liked this one. 

In one motion, Charlus pressed his wand to the tiny cuts on his hands, healing them in an instant. 

“Thanks,” Regulus whispered hesitantly, and Charlus merely smiled-- though there was a flicker of sadness in his eyes as he did so.

“Let’s get you out of this blasted fog, shall we?” Charlus muttered grimly, gently grabbing hold his arm, “Sirius, grab hold of that trunk, now.” 

Regulus gulped, unsure, looking instinctively at Sirius, who looked a mixture of worry and relief. Sirius sighed, wrapping a protective arm around him, and any doubt Regulus had melted instantly. 

“Alright, you two, ready in 3… 2… 1…” 

And with a quiet pop, three wizards disappeared into the night, and into a life that Regulus had never known. 


	5. Ashes

After the initial excitement of Apparating, the Potter House launched into a flurry of motion. James and his Mother bustled around, helping him peel off his torn shirt, before Charlus pressed a mug of warm tea in his hand. 

The whole family seemed to welcome him like it was another ordinary day and ordinary guest-- when, in fact, it was midnight when the three had materialized in their living room. 

Regulus felt like he had stepped onto another planet. 

He tried not to flinch as Mrs. Potter-- or Euphemia, as she had warmly introduced herself as-- dabbed a minty smelling balm to the cuts covering his body and healed the gash on his lip with the flick of her wand. 

James and Charlus, thankfully, had left to go to the other room, giving them a little bit of privacy. Sirius, however, sat on the squashy couch next to him, wide-eyed and fidgeting, watching as Mrs. Potter poured a tiny vial of Pain Relieving Potion into the mug of tea. 

“Drink this, dear,” Mrs. Potter said softly, nodding to the tea. Regulus sipped the tea obediently, staring fixedly at his knees before, realizing-- to his horror-- he hadn’t said a word to her since he’d entered the house. 

“Sorry to be a bother,” he said automatically, before stumbling on, “I mean-- thank you. For healing me.” 

“You’re not a bother at all," Mrs. Potter countered, with such vehemence that Regulus blinked at her, overwhelmed by her warm brown eyes glittering with emotion, “you are _more_ than welcome here, dear.” 

“Thanks,” Regulus said again, flushing. 

“Now, I’d wait a few minutes for the balm to settle on those cuts,” Mrs. Potter said, returning to an air of professionalism, but for a brief moment her expression flashed to something Regulus couldn’t quite place, “then you can put on a shirt.”

Regulus nodded hesitantly, a tiny, shy smile on his lips for the first time that evening. 

“I’ll give you two some time alone,” Mrs. Potter said kindly, “I’m in the other room if you two need me.” 

“Thanks, Euphemia,” Sirius said quietly, and she left the room, closing the door with a quiet snap.

  
Regulus sighed, turning over to look at Sirius. He looked very tired, and it took Regulus a moment to remember that they both had run away in the same night.

Two brothers, with very different, grueling journeys to the same destination.

It was cruelly poetic. 

“Does it-- is it working? The balm?” Sirius asked lamely, after an awkward silence, eyes fixed on Regulus’ exposed chest. Regulus nodded quickly, hugging his arms self-consciously. 

“Um-- are you alright? I mean-- did she--” Regulus started hesitantly.

“No, I’m good,” Sirius said, voice strangely croaky, “I left before she could really-- do anything.”

The phrase ‘ _like she did to you_ ’ followed unsaid.

Sirius shuffled closer to him.

It had been a while since the two had spent any time together without the backdrop of angry parents and stewing arguments. That had certainly dulled any form of interaction between them in the past.

"Reg— about how I--- how I left tonight— " Sirius started hesitantly. 

"It’s alright," Regulus said brusquely, sharper than he had intended, before looking away. Sirius sighed.

"I wasn’t there for you," Sirius explained finally, looking much older than 16, "I’m- I’m your older brother, and I wasn’t there." 

Regulus shook his head. It had hurt, of _course_ it did, but he understood.

"Don’t say that," he said firmly, "there never was a good reason for you to stay, Sirius. She would have killed you." 

"But she could have killed you, too," Sirius pressed on, voice breaking, "she _hurt_ you, Reg, and I-"

"I’m here now," Regulus interrupted quietly, "and I’m- I’m alright." 

And, for the first time since he had sat down, he realized he WAS alright. No matter how nerve-racking it was, he was free-- free to be with his brother, come what may. 

"You’re right," Sirius sighed, "I just hope that I can- I can be there for you now."

"You are here," Regulus said rolling his eyes, "you’re sitting right next to me." 

"You know what I meant," Sirius rolled his eyes, ruffling Regulus’ hair, but his expression lightened somewhat. The two grinned at each other. 

Regulus shifted uncomfortably.

“You’ll want to know what happened,” he said apprehensively, biting his lip. Sirius opened his mouth to reply, but before he could, a strange, dark form was hurtling through the side window with an ear-splitting screech.

Both Sirius and Regulus jumped up in alarm, only to find a familiar stern, sleek owl perched on the windowsill, proudly displaying a letter with an emerald green seal with an intricate design of a snake--

the all-too-familiar seal of the House of Black. 

"Stupid bird," Sirius muttered, scowling, and probably thinking of the numerous howlers from Walburga it had delivered to him.

“Reg…” Sirius said warningly, reaching for the letter, “you don’t need to read it if you don’t want to-”

Regulus merely snatched the letter from the bird, fixing it with a grim look before looking down at the envelope doubtfully.

It spelled ‘ _Regulus_ ’ in big, angry cursive. 

“It’s alright,” he muttered unconvincingly, “I’ll open it.”

Sirius nodded jerkily, eyeing the letter as though it might burst into flames. Regulus opened the letter with trembling fingers, anticipating a thorough tongue-lashing from his mother-- the cold seeming to seep back into his bones despite the warmth of the quiet house.

To his surprise, the letter was not a letter at all-- rather, a short note written on letter paper. 

_Regulus,_

_You have proved my words were right._  
_Tonight, you both burn._

Regulus let out a breath through gritted teeth and folded the letter back up, strangely disappointed by the lack of thought put into it.

It almost felt like an afterthought.

Like she had never cared.

Sirius lingered next to him, respectfully looking away, but curious. Regulus handed Sirius the note after a moment, and he gave it a cursory look before promptly crumpling it into a ball.

“We’re burned,” Regulus said needlessly, “off the tree.”

Sirius snorted.

“Never cared for the damn thing anyway,” he said with a pompous scowl, “it was an ugly thing. Terrible font.” 

But even Regulus could sense the significance of that moment for the boy. To be truly, TRULY unwanted. And suddenly, Regulus could feel the whole evening pelting down on him again like hail.

_You are a weakling._

“Lovely of her to send us a fire-starter,” Sirius commented sardonically, making a show of strolling over to the fireplace in the corner of the room and chucking the crumpled parchment in, “really adds to the theme of the night, doesn’t it.”

Regulus' stomach twisted.

“Sirius,” Regulus interrupted, something in his tone tone causing Sirius to return to his side at an instant, joking aura subsiding, “she- she didn’t burn you.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow at this. He glanced uncomprehendingly at the fire, where the letter was quickly dissolving into the flickering flames.

“What d’you mean?” Sirius probed curiously.

“Right after you left,” Regulus started mechanically, “she took me to that-- that room. With the tree.”

“Yeah?” Sirius said apprehensively. 

“ _I_ burned you off,” Regulus confessed tightly, “she-- she wanted _me_ to do it for some reason.” 

He still couldn’t help but turn away from Sirius, feeling inexplicably ashamed of himself with the inane fear that Sirius would be angry. Sirius simply shrugged.

“Oh,” Sirius remarked, surprised, “well-- that’s alright then, Reg--”

“Except I couldn’t do it,” Regulus continued, voice cracking, “the spell-- it-- I couldn’t burn your name off. It di-didn’t work right. So--” he broke off, remembering the horrible moment.

_'You must MEAN it.'_

“So she cursed you.” Sirius finished, understanding and horror dawning on his face. Regulus shrugged.

“She called me weak,” Regulus continued, smiling humorlessly, “and she was just angry that I still-- thought of you as my brother, I guess.”

Sirius crossed his arms, distant and tired.

"Well, you’re a hell of a lot braver than I was," Sirius said with honest indignation.

Regulus choked on his breath.

That was the _last_ thing he had expected to come from Sirius’ mouth. 

"What- you-" Regulus spluttered incredulously, whirling around to look at Sirius, "you left. I was too scared to follow." 

Sirius was staring up at the ceiling with a smile on his face. He shook his head. 

"Reg," Sirius said, "I didn’t leave. I _ran_." 

"So did I," Regulus countered, confused, but Sirius shook his head.

"I didn’t plan to leave tonight— hell, I just figured I’d tough it out ’til I graduated," Sirius said softly, "you don’t know how scared I was, Reg. _James_ didn’t even know that I was going to run."

_Nor did I_ , came the tiny, jealous voice in the back of Regulus’ head, but he shoved it away quickly.

  
"Well, that doesn’t make you less _brave_ — " Regulus argued stubbornly.

Sirius put his hands on his hips, with a determined glint in his eye. 

“Reg, when I saw you again practically bleeding out on a park bench all because of my bloody trunk, I didn’t see a weak person.”

Regulus gaped at him.

It was _Sirius_ after all-- loud, angry, never-backing-down-Gryffindor Sirius.

And in Regulus’ mind, nobody was braver. 

At Regulus’ non-response, he pushed on.

"Look, Reg," Sirius continued firmly, "I was so scared of being a Black. No matter how Gryffindor I am, how many muggle-born friends I have behind me, how much I complain, I am still a _Black_ — that’s never going away. And that terrifies me."

He turned to look at Reg, mouth curled up in that tired half-smile. 

"What always annoyed me about you was that you were so _good_ about it," Sirius said honestly. 

Regulus laughed. 

"That’s not exactly something I should be proud of, you know?"

"No, Reg, what I mean is that you were all the GOOD things that a Black is supposed to be," Sirius clarified, "you always knew what to say to calm things down when we were all fighting like cats and dogs— "

"— I was just trying to keep us in one piece, it’s not exactly something... _admirable_ — " 

"It is though!" Sirius interrupted fiercely, "Reg, I know you weren’t Mother or Father. You were never Cissa. You were never Bellatrix. And you know right from wrong. And I knew that."

"Sirius, what are you _on_ about— " Regulus started, a little overwhelmed by this unexpected emotional tirade.

"And it pissed me off," Sirius said, laughing a little bit, "because you were _loved_ for it. And that’s— that’s just _you_ , Reg. I was a crap older brother." 

"You're _not_ ," Regulus cut in earnestly, "look, I never would have _dreamed_ of wavering from our parents if I hadn’t had you. No— let me finish— " he continued at Sirius’ incredulous look. 

"You were terrible sometimes, and so was I," Regulus said bluntly, "but you showed me that I- I- don’t have to sacrifice _all_ of me, you know? For them. I never would have done what I did without all the crazy things you did to piss them off."

"Thank you," Sirius said, sounding a bit hoarse. Regulus smiled at him.

"Now enough of this emotional stuff, Siri," Regulus chided, falling back onto his childhood nickname for his brother without realizing it, "I’ve had enough of this for a good while." 

Sirius’ mouth twitched, his expression split between concern and relief, and then he raised an eyebrow.

"It’s been a while, hasn’t it," Sirius said apologetically, ’ _Since we last talked like this_ ’ when unspoken. 

"Yeah," Regulus said distantly, "it has." 

"It’ll be alright, Reg, you'll see." Sirius said finally, reaching out to pull him into a one-armed hug. 

Yes, there would be much more to come— but as far as Regulus was concerned, in this moment he had the most important person in his life at his side.


	6. James

Regulus woke up to the sun streaming through an unfamiliar window. He instinctively reached up to his face, where the gash had been, before remembering that Euphemia had healed him. 

He blinked in confusion, sitting up, and taking in his surroundings. There were two twin beds-- one, he assumed, that Sirius had slept in judging by the trunk next to it and rumpled, unmade covers.

The room could not be more different than the Grimmauld Place-- its walls were a bright yellow, decorated with muggle photographs of nature-- and to top it off, there was a vase of real flowers on the cabinet. 

He got up slowly, poking his head out the window-- the mist had completely subsided, the sky a cheerful, cloudless blue over the lush, green yard.

His dark, musty room at the Grimmauld place didn't even have a window. 

“I thought you would never wake up,” a voice commented cheerfully from behind him. 

Regulus turned around quickly, only to see Sirius leaning casually on the doorframe. He wore fitted black jeans and the Queen T-shirt that Regulus had shoved into his trunk-- something that he wouldn’t be caught dead wearing in Walburga’s house.

“You could have woken me,” Regulus pointed out.

“James said to let you sleep,” Sirius said, tromping into the room and unclasping the trunk, “it’s half-past eleven already.”

“Oh-- um-- sorry,” Regulus said awkwardly, wondering if everyone had been waiting for him to wake up or something.

“Don’t worry about it,” Sirius reassured him, seamlessly following his train of thought, “Charlus went out early somewhere, Euphemia had a morning meeting, and James-- well, he’s here, but he doesn’t mind.”

_James._

Despite his gratitude to him and his family, Regulus couldn’t help the bitter feeling rising in his chest at the name. It was completely irrational, he knew, but the moment that Sirius had gone to Hogwarts it was ‘James this, James that’. And the moment Regulus was sorted into Slytherin, things had undoubtedly been… different. Distant.

“Here,” Sirius said off-handedly, throwing a crumpled t-shirt and some washed-out jeans in Regulus’ direction and effectively pulling him from his thoughts, “you can wear some of my clothes for now.” 

“Right,” Regulus replied distractedly, shaking out the t-shirt and smoothing it on his bed. It was, thankfully, subtler than Sirius’ other t-shirts-- a logo-less dark red. 

“Um-- Sirius--” he started hesitantly, meaning to ask if they were going to actually _stay_ here or not, but Sirius was already halfway out the door. 

“Breakfast is downstairs if you want it!” Sirius was calling behind him, and from where Regulus stood he could hear another voice-- James’ voice-- bantering back and forth with him already. 

Regulus swallowed, pulling on the shirt and jeans. The shirt was woefully baggy, and the jeans were too long necessitating Regulus to roll them up at the hem. He made his way to the door, but not before catching sight of himself in the mirror on the wall. 

He didn’t look like Sirius, all swagger and style with his clothes highlighting all the right places.   
He looked tired, skinny, and pale, drowning in the T-shirt, with stringy hair flopping into his eyes. 

Walburga would have certainly sneered if she saw a person like him on the street.

He made his way slowly down the stairs, inexplicably anxious as James and Sirius’ voices neared.

He poked his head into the kitchen. James and Sirius were engaged in an animated conversation, Sirius waving a spatula energetically to emphasize his points, and James laughing into a bowl of cereal, his messy hair flying in every direction whenever he turned his head. 

That strange feeling twisted again in his stomach and he stared down at the cuffs of his jeans feeling like he was far, far away from the two.

“Oh-- good morning,” James said, smiling after noticing him lingering in the doorway, “feeling alright?”

“Don’t mind him, he’s a mother hen,” Sirius chimed in from the corner of the kitchen, looking completely at ease, a teasing grin lighting up his face. It was an unfamiliar sight.

“Shut it,” James shot back with a playful glare, before turning back to Regulus, “help yourself to whatever you want to eat.”

“Thanks,” Regulus replied stiffly, making his way to the counter and carefully buttering some toast. 

“James, I told you it’s hopeless,” Sirius said loudly, and again, Regulus faded back into the background, “she’s never going to like you.” 

“You just wait,” James said through a mouthful of cereal. Regulus took a tiny bite of toast, choosing to look away from James’ horrendous table manners. 

He assumed that they were talking about Lily Evans-- the muggle-born girl that James was always picking fights with-- and privately agreed with Sirius. 

“I’m home,” a muffled voice was saying from the hallway. In an instant, Charlus was rounding the corner, eyes sparkling. Regulus quickly busied himself with setting down the toast.

“Morning Charlus,” Sirius greeted, relaxed.  
“Good morning Sirius, Regulus,” Charlus replied easily, eyes skating over the two and lingering on Regulus who fidgeted under his stare.

“What am I, chopped liver?” James joked. Regulus glanced nervously at Charlus, but he simply reached over and ruffled James’ already fluffy hair.

“These boys are not driving you up the walls yet?” Charlus asked, addressing Regulus with a long-suffering look on his face, “I get the sense that you and I are the only sane ones around here.” 

“Oi!” 

After quite a bit of denial from James and Sirius, Charlus looked toward Sirius and Regulus amusement giving way to a more serious look. 

“Can I speak with you two for a moment?” he asked lightly. 

“Of course,” Sirius said automatically, Regulus nodding behind him, though his heart was hammering.

Charlus guided them into the other room, the same shade of yellow, and the two sat down on the couch, Charles sitting across from them with a contemplative look on his face.

“I just wanted to go over something with you two regarding your… parents.” Charlus said seriously.

Sirius tensed, and Regulus immediately looked down, crestfallen.   
_This is where he sends us back_ , he told himself, trying not to feel too terrified at the prospect.

“Euphemia and I are prepared to press charges against them,” Charlus explained softly, and Regulus looked up in surprise, “if you two are both willing to talk to me about what happened, and possibly allow me to view some of your memories.”

Regulus sat in stunned silence. Sirius shifted next to him. 

“Do we-- we can go somewhere else too,” Sirius was saying calmly, though Regulus recognized a million thoughts whizzing through his grey eyes, “if it’s easier.” 

“Oh, no--” Charlus cut in, with a reassuring look toward the boy, “Whether we decide to press charges against them, we would love to have you stay here. You're definitely not going back. It’s more a personal choice for you two to make.” 

“Yes,” Sirius said vehemently.  
“No,” Regulus said quickly at the same moment.

They glanced at each other with twin looks of confusion.

“She hurt us-- she hurt _you_.” Sirius stated firmly, anger simmering in his clenched fists, “she shouldn’t be allowed to get away with that.” 

“We’re here now,” Regulus shot back definitively, pushing the previous evening far into the corners of his mind, “it doesn’t matter now.” 

“Boys,” Charlus said softly, drawing the two’s attention back to him, “we’ll support you both with whatever you choose. And if it makes any difference, the investigation wouldn’t be public knowledge.”

“Even better,” Sirius said, eyes lighting up in an instant. Regulus just looked down at his knees, heartbeat drumming loud in his ears. 

  
_Weakling._  
_Tonight, you burn._

Reliving everything sounded like exactly what he didn’t want. He could feel Sirius’ eyes on him as he remained silent.

“Can I speak with Sirius in private?” Regulus asked finally.

Charlus blinked, looking taken aback, before nodding.

“Of course,” he said warmly, “I’ll give you two some time to think.” 

Once Charlus was out of the room, Sirius rounded on Regulus. 

“Why not?” Sirius asked incredulously, sounding genuinely confused, “She deserves it. They both deserve it. And after what she did to you, there’s no question that she’ll be charged--” 

“I know,” Regulus said shortly, mouth twisting, “but it would just make it-- everything-- worse.”

“What do you mean?” Sirius asked, sounding a bit frustrated.

“Sirius, they’re going to take my memories-- of-- of everything,” Regulus said, voice thin, “I just- I just don’t want that, alright?” 

“Look, I know it’s scary, but it’s just Charlus--” Sirius started consolingly, and at that Regulus stood up, blood rushing to his ears.

“You _don’t_ ,” Regulus stated over him, throat constricting, “you don’t know how scary it is. And I don’t even _know_ him. I don’t know _any_ of them.” 

“Reg--” Sirius started, also standing up and looking stern. 

“No,” Regulus said firmly. Sirius crossed his arms, looking sour.

“Is this because of what they’ll say?” he said accusingly. Regulus’ eyes widened, hardly believing that Sirius had gone there.

“What--” Regulus whispered, stepping back.

“Regulus, you can’t keep living your life for them even when you’re gone-- if this is about what all the Slytherins and the purebloods will say, then--” Sirius started to lecture, voice dripping with venom toward everything that they had left behind.

“ _Stop it_ ,” Regulus cut in loudly, trembling. 

Sirius swallowed the fiery spark of anger fading slightly to be replaced with doubt. He bounced from foot to foot, looking apologetic, but he didn’t take back his words. 

Regulus sighed, glancing up at the ceiling. Sirius’ pride would surely be the end of both of them. 

“It’s my memories he’s going to take too,” Regulus said stiffly, “and I’m sorry- I just-- I can’t.” 

“Alright.” Sirius said carefully, expression shuttering, “so it’s a ‘no’ then,”

The distance that Regulus had felt between them seemed to widen. 

***

Regulus spent the rest of the day trying to figure out how to distract himself from Sirius’ clear disappointment, and had taken to carefully making both of their beds and straightening up Sirius’ trunk.

Sirius had gone outside for who-knows-what, and the house was silent except for Charlus-- who had glanced carefully at the two of them after they left the room but said nothing. James washed the breakfast dishes, glancing worriedly between the stewing Sirius and the closed-off Regulus before Sirius had left.

_Figures I’d mess it all up on the first day of living with Sirius_ , Regulus thought, mood darkening.

“You don’t have to do that you know,” a voice was saying from the doorway. 

Regulus glanced up briefly from where he was folding Sirius’ clothes. James stood with an unreadable expression on his face. 

“It’ll just be a mess again,” James said shrugging, “it IS Sirius, after all.”

“S’alright,” Regulus muttered, with a stab of annoyance at James explaining his brother to him, but he closed the trunk anyways. James strode into the room, sitting down on the edge of Sirius’ bed.

“He’s being an idiot, isn’t he,” he said softly. Regulus’ frown grew.

  
“It’s fine,” he said shortly, not wanting to get into it. 

  
“No,” James said airily, not swayed by Regulus’ cold demeanor, “he’s doing the ‘I’m the idiot and I’m too proud to apologize' thing’.” 

“What?” Regulus asked, intrigued despite his growing irrational irritation toward the older boy. James got up, motioning for Regulus to do the same, before pointing out the window. Regulus leaned apprehensively on the windowsill, following James’ gaze. 

To his surprise, Sirius was outside, walking from point to point, and occasionally pulling out a weed with a strange look on his face.

“Pacing,” he said, by way of explanation, “always does that when he’s too stubborn to admit he’s wrong. He’ll come around, though.” 

Regulus snorted.

“Do you make it a habit of psychoanalyzing your friends?” Regulus asked snidely, crossing his arms. 

“Only when I’m worried about them,” James replied honestly. Regulus deflated slightly, glancing over at the boy. His eyes were following Sirius as he paced, a frown playing on his lips. 

It was a bit strange seeing James up close, and it suddenly dawned on him that he had never really had a real conversation with him.

“He was really worried you know,” James confided quietly, “last night. Before you arrived. I’ve never seen him so… rattled.”

Regulus silently pondered this information. He couldn’t picture Sirius being very rattled-- he always had a surety about him. Well, except for when he had found Regulus on that park bench. 

Regulus bit his lip, wringing his hands, and feeling incredibly conflicted.

“I know you don’t like me very much,” James remarked, out of the blue, and Regulus gaped at him. 

“Oh-- no, it’s not that--I really am grateful--” Regulus stuttered, cheeks burning, completely unnerved by James’ apparent ability to read minds, but James just grinned at him.

“It’s alright, we don’t know each other, really,” James said easily, “but I don’t mind you being here. You made Sirius happy when you left.”

With that, any lingering envy toward James seemed to evaporate at this. 

“Really?” Regulus asked hesitantly, hating how vulnerable he sounded. 

James sighed, looking back down at Sirius through the window. 

“Look I-- I know it’s none of my business,” James said simply, “but I hope you’ll give us a chance. Just know-- we are _all_ happy you made it here.” 

He clapped Regulus on the back, before making his way back to the doorway, and presumably back to the kitchen. Regulus stood in silence for a while, something loosening in his chest. 

James was... something different than he had expected.  
And perhaps Sirius was too. 


	7. Home

The stilted silence had lasted the entire day, all the way through a quiet dinner where James and his parents dominated the conversation. The silence felt all too familiar, reminding Regulus of that same, trapped look that Sirius used to have in his eyes in the Grimmauld Place. 

Now Regulus was lying down, and glancing at Sirius. He was facing away from him in the other bed, unmoving. Regulus pondered James’ words. 

_You made Sirius happy when you left._

He had to wonder if James was simply being kind-- sugarcoating the situation-- but there was an openness about him that told him otherwise. 

“I... didn’t mean what I said-- about-- you know, you caring about what they think,” Sirius muttered into the darkness, as if answering his musings, “I… I just want her to pay for what she did, but if you’re not ready to charge yet...” 

Sirius sighed gustily.

“They need to get what’s coming for them,” he said quietly, “eventually.”

_He’s doing the ‘I’m the idiot and I’m too proud to apologize' thing’._

Regulus sat up slightly, mouth slightly agape before he started to chuckle at the irony of it all.

Maybe James _could_ read minds...

“What?” Sirius asked defensively, flopping over to look at Regulus, who just waved a hand at him, continuing to laugh. 

“Oh, nothing,” Regulus said grinning, rubbing the bridge of his nose, “it’s just something James said.”

“You were talking with James?” Sirius asked, sounding surprised and a tiny bit hopeful. 

Regulus looked back up at the ceiling. He still didn’t quite know how to feel about James-- he was certainly a breath of fresh air, coming from a place where appearances must be kept at all times. A place where such honesty wasn’t valued.

“He’s… nice,” Regulus replied neutrally, with a flicker of a smile, “I... think he knows us better than we do sometimes.” 

“What?” Sirius asked, completely lost. 

“Never mind,” Regulus said rolling his eyes, “It’s _alright_ , Sirius, go to sleep.”

“Oh… alright then,” Sirius said, relieved, swiftly turning back over. Regulus shook his head, fondness overtaking all the other complicated emotions swirling around this strange, new situation full of strange, new people. 

Regulus knew that Sirius was always the last to utter the words ‘sorry’ for something that he did, even if he knew he was wrong. 

Some things never changed.

Regulus wondered briefly, how James had come to know this-- it seemed the two had never gotten into disagreements the way that they interacted, before forgetting the thought in favor of drifting off into a welcome sleep.

***

The next day, James and Sirius were again back to their normal, strange selves. 

Regulus quietly observed and tried not to look too curious about anything, but he also noticed that Sirius seemed to take Regulus’ assurance to heart judging by the amount of laughter he heard that morning. Euphemia was there that morning, scolding James for talking with his mouth full, peppering Sirius and Regulus with questions, and simply being… a mother. 

Regulus was starting to realize that Walburga hadn’t been much of one. 

Then, Charlus had taken Regulus aside with little explanation, and the two had apparated to London, on a quiet obscure street with Muggle shops lining it. It was a cool morning, and Regulus pulled the hood of Sirius’ borrowed sweatshirt more tightly over his head. 

“I noticed you didn’t bring any of your things,” Charlus had remarked as they walked, “I can try and get them from your parents--” 

“It’s fine,” Regulus said quickly, “I can manage.” 

Not to mention that Walburga and Orion probably would have burned them all by now. 

“I thought you might say that.” Charlus said calmly, “here.” 

“Hm?” 

Charlus came to a stop, nodding his head to an unassuming clothing store on their left. The window was decorated with mannequins donning basic clothes and fall jackets. Regulus looked up at Charlus questioningly.

“Euphemia and I want to make sure you have everything you need,” Charlus explained, “but we didn’t want to choose a bunch of clothes for you if you didn’t like them.”

“Oh no, I- you don’t have to,” Regulus managed to stutter out, wishing that the ground would swallow him whole at the obvious implication that he had no belongings, “It’s alright, you probably have work today, and I can just keep on using Sirius’ stuff--” 

Images of far too many Muggle rock t-shirts and ripped jeans filled his mind, and he couldn’t help but wince. 

“Regulus,” Charlus said in a low voice, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I know this all very sudden, but I- we want you to feel at home here. Sirius may know us better than you do, but that doesn’t make you any less important.” 

Regulus unstuck his mouth, touched, and secretly wondered if all Potters had the strange ability to read his mind these past few days.

_Was he that easy to read?_

“I- but- you don’t have to,” he argued lamely. Charlus smiled, adjusting his wire-rimmed glasses. 

“No,” Charlus replied confidently, “but I want to.” 

And with that, Charlus entered the shop with Regulus in tow, guiding him through the store and making sure that he was choosing at least three of what he wanted from each section (despite Regulus’ weak protests), and then to a fitting room where Regulus tried on the clothes.

He looked in the mirror, taking in the clean-cut jeans and dark blue sweater.

It certainly wasn’t an outfit that any pureblood would wear, but he had to admit, he looked… put together. 

Less like Sirius’ shadow, and more like he had left intending to leave. 

“Here,” Charlus said, taking the rest of the clothes from Regulus’ arms, “I’ll see if the clerk will let us leave with you wearing that.”

Then, with a bundle of what seemed to Regulus to be far too many clothes, the two left the shop, Regulus reeling with the revelation that maybe, just maybe, things weren’t as temporary as he had thought with the Potters.

He thought of Orion, perpetually cold and distant, crushing any semblance of sentimentality with every sentence he uttered. 

He would never go shopping with Regulus and Sirius, not even for school supplies. 

He and Charlus walked leisurely, Regulus looking wide-eyed at the multicolored cars zooming past, at the groups of Muggles huddling together around a boombox, at parents herding their young ones into shops.

The streets were so _alive_ , and he’d never been around to see it. 

“They never took us out,” Regulus said conversationally without realizing it, “they locked us in, you know, in the summers.” 

“In the house?” Charlus prompted, in a strange tone. 

“Oh, well-- sometimes they’d keep us in our rooms,” Regulus said awkwardly, “it was alright, though. We’d still have meals and everything.”

Charlus remained silent at this, demeanor shifting. 

“Never stopped Sirius, though,” Regulus commented with a nervous laugh, “he always managed to sneak out the windows when they were least expecting it.” 

Charlus didn’t laugh.

“Why did they lock you in?” Charlus asked calmly. 

Regulus paused at this, mind drawing a blank. He’d never really thought about why-- everything just happened because Walburga or Orion said so. Though Sirius' grumbles and gripes about pureblood purists had certainly given him a clue over the years.

“They didn’t want us to see _this_ ,” Regulus explained, motioning toward the muggles going about their day, “they wanted us to be…”

Regulus stopped himself, not exactly sure WHAT they had wanted them to be.

Purebloods? _But the Potters were Purebloods too._

Purists? _But many Pureblood Purists still went about their lives, regardless of the Muggle ones continuing too._

“They wanted you to be like them,” Charlus said, a note of derision entering his tone. 

Regulus nodded mutely, uncomfortable at that notion. 

After a while, Charlus motioned to a park bench and two took a seat, quietly taking in the scene. A muggle street performer was across the street playing the violin. Its sound floated through the chatter of the bustling morning.

“I don’t know if you know, but I am Head Auror,” Charlus said. Regulus nodded, quietly thinking of the many times that Walburga had cursed his name, especially when Sirius started talking about his new best friend James. 

“I know you don’t want to press charges yet, and that’s fine,” Charlus said quietly, “but I want you to know the option is always there for you if you want to pursue it.”

He cleared his throat shifting some of the bags in his arms. 

“And… you didn’t deserve what happened to you. You deserve to have a home and a family.”

Regulus glanced up at him, at a complete loss for words.

No adult had ever said anything like that to him before.

_A home_. Far different from a just a house, a roof over their heads- but a home. 

So when Charlus smiled at him, Regulus couldn’t help but grin back, feeling lighter than he had ever thought possible.

***

When Charlus and Regulus returned, James and Sirius were in the living room, passionately arguing the merits of Quidditch teams. 

“The Arrows are going to crush them Prongs, just you wait-” Sirius was arguing to James who was vehemently shaking his head. 

“You and your blind loyalty to the Arrows,” James replied, narrowing his eyes, and snapping the book in his hand shut, “have you seen the Tornadoes’ seeker? He outflies Crowley any day,” 

“Crowley has nothing on the Arrows’ beaters.” Sirius shot back, crossing his arms.

“You’re only saying that because _you’re_ a beater.” Regulus cut in, seamlessly entering the conversation. The two turned to look at him, both looking pleasantly surprised at his presence. 

“I like it,” Sirius was saying, eyes lighting up with approval at the Muggle style of Regulus’ new clothes, “it’s very... you.” 

“Thank you,” Regulus said smiling and looking a bit self-consciously down at himself, and then more slyly, “...now I don’t have to wear your clothes better than you do.” 

Sirius gasped in mock distress.

“Was that- a _joke_? An actual sense of humor?” Sirius exclaimed. James raised an eyebrow sharing an amused glance with Regulus.

“I don’t know, Pads,” James said, smirking, “kid’s got a point.”

Sirius scowled. 

“You’re only saying that because he _implied_ that the Tornadoes are better than the Arrows,” Sirius said accusingly, but Regulus could tell that he was trying not to laugh.

“I didn’t _imply_ anything,” Regulus said succinctly, gracefully sitting down in a chair near to the two, “that’s just a fact.” 

James snickered and Sirius pouted looking put out.

“Merlin, now there’s two of you,” Sirius bemoaned, putting a pillow over his head, “Chasers and seekers are so overrated, it’s not my fault you two chose the most _boring_ positions.”

“Though,” Regulus continued, as though Sirius hadn’t spoken, “I must say the Magpies are doing far better than both of those teams this year.” 

“The _Magpies_?” James and Sirius exclaimed in unified horror.

As the two talked over each other in their haste to convince Regulus of the inherent evil of the Magpies, all while Charlus chuckled from the other room, Regulus just grinned, heart-swelling at being a part of it all.

The Grimmauld place was a house, yes-

But Regulus, for the first time, felt a little closer to home.


	8. Muggle Magic

And so began a strange but comfortable routine for the three boys, who were savoring the last vestiges of summer, which was quickly waning to a steadily approaching fall. That meant they would be back at school- that alone caused anxiety to flutter in his stomach at the thought of facing the _entire Slytherin house_ \- but that was a demon that Regulus would tackle another day.

In the meantime, Euphemia and Charlus encouraged them to go outside and enjoy the summer sun. Regulus had a niggling suspicion that Charlus had told Euphemia about Sirius and Regulus not being allowed outside at the Grimmauld Place, causing her to make any possible excuse for them to go out. He definitely had no complaints about this new arrangement.

“I can’t believe it’s almost September,” James remarked as they walked, hands in his pockets, and his jean jacket slung over his shoulder, unused. 

“Don’t remind me,” Sirius groaned, shuddering, “the fact that it’s going to be our last year…” 

The two winced in unison. 

“At least you’re done with your OWL’s,” Regulus reminded them hesitantly from behind.

He was still not used to being a part of Sirius and James’s conversations (given that they had ignored each other for their entire Hogwarts career thus far). Though, he had gotten used to their antics- they seemed more like _clones_ than friends at times. Regulus tagged along behind them rolling his eyes at their perfectly matching steps. 

“OWL’s were nothing, Reg, don’t get all agitated,” Sirius said breezily, ruffling Regulus’ hair, and pulling him to walk in step between them, and causing him to stumble slightly. 

“To you,” Regulus muttered sullenly. Sirius always had the annoying ability to pick things up in an instant, while Regulus always had to read the textbook twice over to master something.

“You’ll do fine,” James reassured him kindly, “the thing to remember with OWL’s is the wand movements with the examiner-”

“Never mind that,” Sirius interrupted excitedly, “check out _this_ place!” 

The group turned as one, following Sirius’ gaze. 

The muggle shop was a faded blue, with large glass windows, with a huge sign that said ‘Idyllic Records’ in big, bold letters. Lined up in perfect squares were what seemed to be photographs of people's strange, brightly-colored muggle outfits. Up-tempo music drifted from out the store’s door, which was ajar, and as they watched a large group of muggle teenagers entered talking amongst themselves.

Regulus peered apprehensively into the window, wondering what on earth an ‘idyllic record’ was supposed to be.

Sirius and James shared a wide grin, before promptly bee-lining toward the store, tugging a confused Regulus along with them. The inside of the store was just as multicolored as the windows; there were an impressive amount of posters covering every inch of the walls. Muggles of all ages were in every narrow aisle, flicking endlessly through what seemed to be many, colorful pieces of cardboard.

Regulus narrowed his eyes, watching the store clerk as he pulled out a strange black disc from the cardboard, and place it on a metal contraption, and fiddle with it for a moment. To his immense surprise, the contraption burst to life, and immediately an intense rock song was blasting through the store. 

“Sirius- what-” Regulus started apprehensively, turning back to Sirius who was gleefully awaiting his reaction.

“It’s called a _record player_ Reg, it plays _their_ music,” Sirius explained needlessly, without an ounce of subtlety, patting Regulus’ shoulder and causing the muggles around him to look up at the two incredulously, “James has one back at the house.” 

“Thanks for the explanation,” Regulus said sarcastically through gritted teeth, grimacing at the attention his words had brought, “it’s not like I don't have _eyes_ , Sirius.” 

But Sirius was already halfway down the aisle, confidently following James. 

“Mother would have a fit,” Regulus muttered to himself under his breath, smoothing his T-shirt in agitation. The blasphemous amount of colors and muggle photographs in that room alone would have caused her to fly into a rage. 

“Your parents from the Middle Ages or something?” a girl chewing gum asked from behind him, looking him up and down, “everyone has a record player nowadays.” 

Regulus turned around. The girl had chin-length red hair, an imposing leather jacket and some flared out jeans. A similarly dressed boy with multiple piercings and spiky hair smirked at him from her side. She raised an eyebrow. 

Regulus cleared his throat awkwardly.

“Something like that,” Regulus replied finally, trying to act nonchalant but internally panicking, “they don’t like.... music.”

“Well... that’s bullshit.” the girl declared bluntly. Regulus nodded silently, not sure how to proceed with this situation.

He’d never had a conversation with an actual muggle before, let alone one that was dressed so… intimidatingly.

“Don’t mind them,” another voice joined her from across the aisle, “nosy lot, those two.” 

“Just making friendly conversation!” the girl shot back, hands on her hips, but she sounded amused as she said it. 

Regulus turned. A younger guy in a striped t-shirt, perhaps the same age, with a tawny complexion and voluminous curly hair grinned at him. He adjusted the strap of a satchel on his shoulder, stepping closer to Regulus.

“Hello,” he greeted curiously, his eyes scrunching up when he smiled, “I’m Oliver.” 

“Regulus.” Regulus introduced quickly, “It’s… nice to meet you.”

“Weird constellation name,” the the guy next the leather-jacket girl said offhandedly, “I like it.” 

Regulus blinked. This _had_ to be the strangest conversation he’d ever had.

“He’s Jack, and I’m Cass.” the girl explained rolling her eyes, and pushing some hair behind her ear, “he’s an idiot, ignore him.”

“...right,” Regulus replied awkwardly, standing stiffly at the edge of the hallway. 

Without further ado, Cass and Jack were back to flicking through records, engaged in their conversation. Regulus rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh, not sure if he should touch anything.

“I’m guessing those two are your... brothers?” Oliver asked him, nodding down the aisle at Sirius and James who were talking over each other in their excitement. 

“Er… yes. That’s my brother and his friend.” Regulus amended, softening slightly at the sight. 

Oliver chuckled.

“I’ve never seen anyone so excited about a record store before,” Oliver remarked, raising an eyebrow at James, whose pile of records was quickly growing, and Sirius, who was pointing enthusiastically at every poster on the wall with exuberant hand motions.

Regulus snorted. 

_Those idiots._

“That’s just how they are, trust me,” he said, mouth twitching up into a smile at the two despite his nervousness, “Subtlety isn’t their thing.” 

“That’s fantastic,” Oliver stated with the same crooked smile, “it’s nice to see people excited about music. Who's your favorite artist?” 

“Oh--” Regulus started haltingly, “um… well, I was never allowed to listen to any music, so... ”

He dug around frantically for a band that he had seen Sirius wear a shirt for but came up blank. He cleared his throat again, flushing. Even Cass and Jack turned around again, looking horrified. 

“There has to be something,” Cass said, wide-eyed at the idea.

Regulus just bit his lip. Even his knowledge of _Wizarding_ music was rather sparse- there wasn’t much that his parents had approved of, besides long warbling songs about pureblood history, so he just had never bothered to try and find anything. 

“Ols, show him around upstairs,” Jack ordered swiftly, pointing at Oliver commandingly, who nodded gamely.

“Not anything-” Oliver repeated in shock, before taking Regulus by the elbow and falling into step with him, “well, Regulus, we’re going to have to change that.” 

And that was how Regulus found himself walking through more multicolor aisles (where he couldn’t help but crane his neck in his observations of so many strange muggle contraptions) and into the furthest corner of the store.

There, all in a line, were various ‘record players’ as Sirius had called them. Regulus glanced at Oliver questioningly, watching as the boy unearthed one of the records from a nearby shelf, blowing off the dust. He gracefully placed it on the record player, Regulus watching intently as he carefully guided the needle down to the grooves in the black vinyl. 

A softer, muted song began to play, just loud enough so Regulus could make out the words. 

_‘You never heard my song before, the music was too loud’_

“That is incredible!” he breathed, trying to work out the complicated technology that it was made of. Oliver glanced at him.

“You've never even _seen_ one before?” he questioned in surprise. Regulus looked down at his brand new sneakers, resentment curling in his chest.

_‘But now I think you hear me well, for now, we both know how_ ’

“I wish I had,” he muttered, wondering with a pang how much more his parents had concealed about Muggles. They had always made it seem like they were hapless, rabid animals, incapable of doing anything. 

Suddenly, a pair of chunky earmuffs were being placed on his head- Regulus was just about to ask Oliver _why_ , given that it was 25 degrees Celcius out and they were inside a building, after all - 

when the next line of the song started playing. It sounded like the singer was right _next_ to him, singing directly into his ears along with the band. 

He couldn’t help but gasp in surprise.

_‘No star can light our way in this cloud of dark and fear_

_But someday, one day…’_

“That’s--” Regulus started, after a while, entranced by the surround-sound music and the layered sounds of guitar and drums paired with that angelic voice. He closed his eyes. 

He had never heard anything like it before. 

_‘But someday one day…_

_We'll come home’_

“A bit slower than what’s playing downstairs,” Oliver was saying sheepishly, running a hand through his hair, “but one of my favorites. Band called ‘Queen’; they just released their second album.”

Regulus took off the headphones and the music immediately quieted again. He stared down at them for the moment, gaping.

“...you’re- you’re _sure_ this isn’t some type of magic?” he asked in amazement, before realizing how dumb he must sound.

Oliver just laughed, eyes sparkling. 

“I’m glad you like them too, the band’s relatively new,” he said, misinterpreting Regulus’ reaction, and took the headphones back quickly, “Cass and Jack are still on the fence about them.” 

“It’s brilliant,” Regulus blurted out, suddenly understanding Sirius and James’s excitement, “you have great taste. Er- in music, I mean.”

Oliver brushed some hair out of his eyes, looking a bit self-conscious. Regulus, getting a closer look at the boy, noticed he was lightly dusted in freckles and that his eyes were a curious shade of golden brown. He, too, had a small earring on his left ear, and a simple silver necklace. He wondered if that was some sort of thing that all Muggles did.

“Tell Jack and Cass' that-- they've worn out the same old records downstairs for ages,” he confided, rolling his eyes. 

“You _work_ here then?” Regulus exclaimed, straightening up in surprise, “Oh, I’m sorry, I must be wasting your time-” 

“No, no no-” Oliver reassured him quickly, “I’m happy to show you some music. It’s a family thing, anyway, and it’s very part-time.” 

Oliver hesitated, busying himself with delicately removing the needle and gently picking up the black disk and depositing it back into the cardboard cover.

“Besides, I haven’t seen you around before,” he clarified, shrugging, and looking almost shy, “there are some local kids that come in sometimes, but they’re…”

His facial expression flattened for a moment, but he plowed on, curls rustling as he shook his head.

“Well, it’s good to see some different people my age around here,” he continued lightly, though Regulus could sense something brewing underneath the surface of that statement. 

“My brother and I are new here,” Regulus responded quickly, thinking of the stiff, formality of his Mother and Father’s guests- the calculated personas that seemed so false and disingenuous, “so I… know how you feel.”

It certainly felt like a whole new world, even within the confines of a little Muggle record shop.

“Do you?” Oliver asked, pausing with a hopeful look on his face. 

“Reg?” a distant voice was calling, and Regulus glanced down the aisle. 

Sirius was making his way slowly down it. Regulus glanced back.

“Ah- I should probably get going,” he said apologetically.

“Right,” Oliver said, suddenly looking flustered, “actually-- here.”

Oliver clumsily fetched a thin, silver marker out of his pocket, scribbling something on the album, before pressing it in Regulus’ hands. Regulus looked uncomprehendingly down at it-- right under the majestic title ‘Queen II’ was a series of ten numbers with dashes in between some of them. 

“If you ever are around again,” Oliver explained, looking a bit nervous with the same hopeful look in his eye, “um… just give me a ring. Or drop by the shop, if that’s easier.”

“Huh? I- alright then.” Regulus said cluelessly, figuring it was some strange Muggle saying.

Give him a _ring_?

It seemed rather bold of him, for a first meeting to ask for something in return. Whatever for? 

He figured jewelry was more of a Muggle tradition than he had thought. 

“Wait-” Regulus said in with a confused smile, “I haven’t bought it though-”

“Keep it,” Oliver cut in quickly, inexplicably blushing, “I want you to have it, especially since you haven’t listened to it before.” 

“Thank you.” Regulus said softly, gently tucking it under his arm, “I’ll- er- drop by later than.” 

“Right. I’ll- I’ll look forward to it.” Oliver replied, looking rather relieved at Regulus’ response, and waving at Regulus as he fast-walked to meet Sirius halfway. 

“There you are Reg.” Sirius was saying, “James and I just paid for everything, I thought you were waiting outside or something.” 

“No, I was listening to some muggles called 'Queen'.” Regulus explained breathlessly, mind whirring, “they do have an intriguing sound- I mean, did you _know_ that muggles could do all that? That they had earpieces and things that make the music louder and they make the records work out of grooves in the vinyl, and a needle and-”

Sirius glanced down at him, mouth open in apparent shock.

“What?” Regulus asked, blankly, mid-sentence.

“Nothing, it’s just- I never expected those words to come out of your mouth,” he commented almost to himself, a proud smile slowly taking over his face. 

Regulus bit back a wide grin. He couldn’t remember a time before this week that Sirius had truly been proud of him, and it was a wonderful feeling.

It was when they were halfway down the street (James meeting them at the door with a paper bag full of records) when James noticed Regulus clutching the album in his arm. 

“Oh- did you forget to pay for that?” James asked, coming to a stop.

Regulus started, having forgotten he was clutching it in the first place.

“Oh, no, someone gave it to me,” he said casually, still a bit puzzled by the whole interaction, “he was nice.” 

James and Sirius seemed to communicate with a glance. Regulus bounced from foot to foot again, feeling as though he was missing something. 

“Very... nice,” Sirius said neutrally, something underlying in his tone. 

“Speaking of which- you both took muggle studies,” Regulus asked tentatively as they continued walking, “do you know what it means to- um- give someone a ring? It’s a rather… _strange_ thing to request.” 

James and Sirius both glanced at him again. James’ eyebrows were slowly raising, and Sirius looked- if possible- more surprised than before- his expression morphing from one minute to another. It was rather unnerving.

“I mean,” Regulus said with a nervous laugh, “he- er- gave me some sort of... number if that helps.” 

He glanced down at the album, the shiny digits glinting in the sunlight. James and Sirius peered over his shoulder. 

“ _Merlin_ , Reg, you really don’t do things in halves, do you,” Sirius said after a brief silence, shaking his head with a disbelieving smile, “let’s go back to the house and we’ll talk about it.” 

Confused, but happy, Regulus just clutched the album tighter and followed the two back home. Whatever it was, he had discovered something truly magical today- and it was in the world of Muggles. 


	9. An Unwelcome Visitor

The three sat in James’ room: Sirius leaning against the bed and staring critically at the album cover with the strange sequence of numbers on it. James fiddled with the volume of his record player next to him. 

Regulus sat across from the two, feeling like he was in some strange business meeting. 

The Queen song increased in volume. 

_...funny how love is anywhere you're bound to be..._

“Now are you going to tell me what this is all about?” Regulus asked pointedly. 

_...funny how love is every song in every key..._

“Well… a ‘ring’ means speaking with him through a fellytone-” James explained sagely.

“Telephone,” Sirius interjected, causing James and Regulus to raise an eyebrow at him. 

“What?” Sirius asked, shrugging, “it was an interesting class.” 

_...funny how love is coming home in time for tea..._

“What’s a… ‘telephone’ then?” Regulus urged apprehensively. 

“It’s… a muggle machine that lets you talk to someone from far away,” James continued, looking more twitchy by the second, “the number is like- like a code that you press in so you get the right person.”

“Oh, so he wants me to _talk_ to him then,” Regulus sighed in relief, “I thought it was something h _orrible_ the way you two were going on about it.”

Sirius shared another infuriating glance with James.

“Right,” James continued awkwardly, looking conflicted, “so... this guy. Did he say anything else?” 

“He just said to give him a ring and…” Regulus muttered, trying to remember his conversation, before promptly smacking himself on the forehead. 

“Oh Merlin,” he exclaimed, “I told him I’d like to drop by later… I’d better go soon if I want to catch him.” 

James and Sirius both turned, wide-eyed again. 

“It _is_ something horrible, isn’t it,” Regulus stated accusingly at the two’s reactions. 

“No, not at all!” James burst out, before heroically stumbling on, “it’s just, well- if a muggle gives you their number like that, it probably means they… like you.” 

“Not to mention a whole album,” Sirius muttered unhelpfully, glancing nervously between James and Regulus. 

“Oh,” Regulus remarked uncomprehendingly before- 

“Oh,” Regulus said face burning, “he _likes_ me.”

James looked anxiously at Regulus who just put his face in his hands. 

“I’m such an idiot,” Regulus groaned mournfully, leaning back against the wall, before reluctantly dragging himself to his feet, “Well... I’d- I’d better go then.” 

James seemed to choke on air at this statement.

“What? Why?” Sirius asked blankly. 

“Well, I’m not very well going to make him wait for nobody, am I, ” Regulus snapped, feeling very conflicted but also strangely flattered, “I told him I’d be there, so um, I’ll just explain that it’s not a date… ” 

He was a Slytherin, after all, and Slytherins never go back on a promise.

Regulus bit his lip, thinking of the curly-haired guy with the magic earmuffs and the crooked smile. Walburga and Orion and at least half the Slytherins would say he was somehow… lesser. But why?

It certainly seemed like muggles could make magic too, especially out of vinyl. 

“Merlin,” Regulus muttered again, another sudden dreadful thought crossing his mind, “I don’t know a thing about Muggles.” 

***

After a rushed crash course on muggles by two very unqualified teachers, Regulus was walking down the street toward the record shop feeling incredibly out of his depth, and desperately trying to remember the difference between a bicycle, a car, and the underground. 

He put his hands in his pockets, feeling around for an assortment of Muggle bills and coins that Sirius and James had scrounged together in case he needed it. He nervously smoothed a hand through his hair- Walburga had always insisted that he slick it back but today he left it be, his thick, wavy bangs hanging over one eye.

_“You look like a Beatle,” Sirius had said grinning, before swinging one of his black jean jackets over Regulus’ shoulders._

_“A beetle? You need to work on your insults, Sirius.” Regulus had replied, confused when Sirius and James just burst into laughter._

He was starting to regret his polite decision to meet Oliver. He had to wonder what on earth Oliver, some sort of muggle music-wizard, saw in him. He probably had seemed so clueless. In the world of the Grimmauld Place, he certainly wasn’t supposed to be hanging around guys- let alone muggle guys. 

He stiffened, Walburga’s unwelcome voice materializing in his head.

_What a disgrace. What is a pureblood like YOU doing with a muggle?_

‘This isn’t a date,’ Regulus rehearsed to himself methodically, ‘I’d like to just be friends. This isn’t a date-’ 

“Why hello again,” a familiar voice said playfully from behind him. Regulus turned around, meeting eyes with Oliver and everything he had learned about muggles seemed to fizzle out of his head. 

Oliver was walking toward him with a bright smile, his signature curly hair looking like it had been wrestled into a ponytail. Little sprigs of curls were escaping and framing his face endearingly. 

What Regulus hadn’t expected was for him to look so... _radiant_. 

Oh hell. 

“Hi!” Regulus greeted finally, his ‘friends’ mantra dying in his throat. Oliver put his hands in his jean pockets.

“So... I was thinking, we could maybe catch a movie or something? There’s a theater down the street,” Oliver asked hesitantly, “I mean- if you’d like to… “ 

Regulus had no clue what a movie was, or why on Earth they had to catch it in a theater of all places (he did wish he had dressed in more athletic clothes, for if they’d have to pursue it or something). 

He figured he was in too deep to back out now.

“I’d- I’d like that,” Regulus said quickly, hoping it was the right response.

They both seemed to release a breath they both seemed to be holding. 

“They loved the record,” Regulus said quickly, “my brother and his friend, I mean.”

“I’m glad,” Oliver replied politely before the two settled back into a nervous silence.

It was a warm afternoon, slowly transitioning to evening, and the sky was a pleasant shade of blue. Muggles were walking leisurely through the sidewalks in laughing groups, not sparing the two boys a second glance, and Regulus could feel himself slowly getting used to being a part of it all. 

_“Just… be yourself, Reg.” Sirius had said quietly with a strange, knowing expression on his face as he slipped out the door._

“You- um- look great,” Regulus complimented honestly, with a side-along glance at Oliver, hoping that it was an ordinary-muggle-friend-thing to say, “your pendant is really beautiful.” 

Oliver’s hand automatically reached up to the metal pendant, and this time a more genuine smile crept onto his face. 

“Thanks,” he said softly. Oliver grinned, blush staining his face.

“Your jacket’s pretty rad,” he replied, eyes flicking down to Sirius’ jacket with interest. 

Regulus chuckled. 

“It’s my brother’s,” he said, waving a hand dismissively, “he has a bit more of an eye for fashion than I do.” 

Muggle fashion, that is. 

“I bet you’d look good in whatever outfit you choose,” Oliver reassured him smoothly, while Regulus resisted the sudden urge to leap in front of a moving vehicle. 

Why on earth did this muggle boy have to be so… _charming_?

He wasn’t _supposed_ to be melting right now.

He was _supposed_ to find a nice, pureblood girl and avoid confrontation for the rest of his life. 

“Here we are,” Oliver announced, oblivious to Regulus’s thoughts impending doom. 

He pointed up at the blinking ‘THEATER’ sign which had a couple of interesting sounding taglines listed under it, and then said more slyly, “come on, you can’t tell me you haven’t seen a movie before either,” 

“Haven’t seen this one,” Regulus said apprehensively, covertly looking around and trying to identify what a ‘movie’ was supposed to be. He glanced at the people walking by-- they didn’t look like they were dressed for any kind of running either, so he felt a bit better about the whole thing.

“Looks like a good one,” Oliver commented, eyes sparkling under the bright sign as the line shuffled forward, “two tickets please.” 

Oliver slid some money through a little compartment to a clerk separated by glass, and the two were whisked into the theater-- carpeted in red and highlighted by the pop of popcorn and into one of two unassuming doors filled with red seats behind a massive, white sheet. 

Regulus glanced around. There was only a smattering of people in the theater, mostly clumped near the front.

“Not many people,” Oliver said, raising an eyebrow, “which is… strange.”

They sunk into the plush seats near the back, nearly shoulder to shoulder. The quiet classical music drifted through the wooden walls from next door, the people’s hushed conversations from the front floated through the room as they waited. Regulus looked around, wide-eyed, at the high ceilings and velvety curtains draped on the walls.

It had been nothing like he had expected.

“Lovely,” he commented and was surprised to find that it was the truth.

Another interesting place he had never known.

Then, to his surprise, the lights dimmed and the white sheet flickered to life- and then a story was playing out on the screen- following an ominous, sharp classical music piece and a dark hallway. Regulus leaned forward, intrigued.

“Damn,” Oliver muttered in dread, “I think we went to the wrong screening, we’re supposed to be next door.” 

“Not a fan, I take it?” Regulus whispered back, far more relaxed, but both jumped as an earsplitting screech emitted from the screen.

Once he had determined that nothing was going to fly out of the screen _at_ him, Regulus stifled a laugh. 

It was strange-- the “creatures” that Muggles invented to be scary.

“What are you talking about?” Oliver whispered unconvincingly, “I’m perfectly fine watching this.”

This statement was immediately disproven when in the next moment when a strange, blurry creature flew into frame and Oliver immediately latched on Regulus’ arm. 

“Gonna have nightmares for the rest of my life," Oliver hissed, curling further back into the seat as Regulus snickered quietly.

The creature DID look a fair bit like an angry flobberworm. 

“What was the other ‘movie’ supposed to be?” Regulus whispered, taking pity on Oliver, who was shooting him a betrayed look from curled up in his seat, earring askew and a wince on his face as he watched the gory scene play out before them. 

“Not this,” Oliver said unhelpfully, regaining some of his composure for a moment before, “ _jeepers_ \--”

Another flobberworm-like creature appeared, this time covered in blood. 

***

“Nothing more romantic than a harrowing life-and-death experience,” Oliver grumbled an hour and a half later over a steaming cup of hot chocolate. 

The two had stumbled out of the theater, Oliver immediately jumping in surprise at a car whizzing by, still reeling from the film, before they made their way to a nearby cafe. Regulus just laughed, invigorated by the night air. The sky had quickly faded to a deep blue, and a few stars were visible overhead.

“It was fun,” Regulus argued, grinning, “I quite enjoyed it.”

Oliver shuddered, slinging an arm around Regulus’ waist and looked around warily.

“It’s up to you to fight off any horror movie creature that comes after us,” Oliver ordered, pointing at him accusingly, “I can’t believe you just laughed through that whole thing!”

Regulus valiantly tried to push down the butterflies rising in his stomach at the sudden touch. 

“Noted,” Regulus replied, rolling his eyes, “you said you loved movies.”

"I do! Just not whatever _that_ was supposed to be,” Oliver said defensively, as the two weaved their way through the quiet London streets, peering into glowing shop windows and pointing out interesting outfits or items.

“Really,” Regulus teased, “it was purely unbiased criticism and not those… _terrifying_ worm things.” 

“Worm things-- more like terrifying _demons_ from the pits of hell!” Oliver spluttered dramatically. The two settled on a public bench, bathed in the flickering light of a streetlamp, a little ways away from a close-by restaurant where muggle couples-- mostly dress-wearing women and suit-wearing men sat outside with fancy tablecloths and shiny silverware. Regulus observed in interest. 

“Whatever you say,” Regulus said indulgently, sipping on his tea. He inwardly grinned at Oliver-- more curls had escaped his ponytail and were standing up in every direction, and he had a tiny dab of whipped cream on his lip from his hot cocoa.

“I think I aged a decade just from watching that film,” Oliver continued obliviously, “and here I thought we’d be watching something _fun_...” 

Regulus listened dutifully, feeling thoroughly content with the evening, before a dark flash caught his eye from across the street, from just behind the outdoor seating of the muggle restaurant. 

His breath froze in his throat, and he blinked hard to make sure it wasn’t his mind playing tricks on him.

Standing and staring stonily in his direction was a man- his imposing coat fluttering in the wind, and his electric blue eyes beady and narrowed. He said nothing and didn’t continue closer, but Regulus could feel his familiar presence. 

Taunting him.

Making him feel like he was an unruly child again, about to be punished.

Orion Black. 

_His father._

His hand was in his pocket, and Regulus could feel the thrum of anxiety pulsing through his veins. Waiting, frozen, for Orion to unsheath his wand.

Regulus could feel his hands trembling and set down his tea on the bench. He hadn’t even brought his wand. He was… helpless.

“...Regulus?” 

Regulus snapped back to Oliver, who’s joking presence had long since faded, his brown eyes dark with worry.

Regulus looked back at Orion, whose gaze was now locked on Oliver, a strange little smirk playing on his lips. 

Why was he here?

Had he _followed_ them?

How long had he been standing there?

Regulus felt like throwing up. 

“We’ve got to go,” Regulus said sharply, getting up quickly and pulling Oliver with him, leaving the tea sitting on the park bench. Hand still firmly on Oliver’s wrist, he continued further through the streets at a jog, one eye perpetually over their shoulder. Orion didn’t pursue them, he just stood watching coldly until the two disappeared from sight, but Regulus continued this pace until the two were back in front of the record store, the noises of the shops had faded away, and the night was silent except for Regulus's ragged breathing.

Oliver gently pulled his wrist out of Regulus's tight grip, and then hesitantly brought hands to Regulus’ shoulders. Regulus was suddenly keenly aware of how shaky he was at the confrontation, and how uneven his breaths were.

“Look at me,” Oliver whispered, “just _breathe_ , we’re alright.” 

_No, we aren’t_ , Regulus wanted to scream but he took a deep breath anyway, rubbing the bridge of his nose. 

“Sorry,” Regulus said finally, throat tight. 

“Don’t be,” Oliver said easily, but his eyebrows were furrowed. Regulus sighed, running a hand through his hair, and blinking rapidly. Oliver stood patiently, looking troubled, eyes following Regulus’ gaze.

“Did you- the man behind you, in the coat, did you see him?” Regulus asked urgently after a tense silence.

“Only a little bit,” Oliver replied quickly, biting his lip, “um- as we were leaving. Did you know him or something?”

“That’s my father,” Regulus burst out, words tore out of his lips unwillingly. He looked down, heart racing. Oliver breathed in through his teeth, stiffening in an instant. 

“Shit- he saw us-” Oliver exclaimed urgently, eyes fiery with a sudden understanding, “and he’s… do you have to go home tonight? Is he--” 

“No,” Regulus said, face hot, but his heart rate was slowly returning to a normal pace, “I- it’s just- my brother and I left home a few weeks ago,” 

Regulus let out a humorless laugh, swiping angrily at his eyes with his jacket sleeve.

“Sorry,” he muttered with a humorless smile, “kind of puts a damper on things, doesn’t it.”

Oliver was silent, mouth pressed in a thin line and hands tightening on Regulus’s shoulders.

“He already disowned us,” Regulus mumbled under his breath, “you’d think he’d just leave me alone already.” 

“For… for liking men?” Oliver questioned tentatively, righteous anger simmering in his eyes. Oliver looked shattered but unsurprised at this conclusion. Regulus shook his head mutely.

“Not- not exactly,” Regulus answered softly with a slightly hysterical laugh, “though he wouldn’t like that either.” 

Regulus looked up at the dark sky. Even the constellations seemed to be taunting him-- reminding him of the tree that he was no longer a part of. He sighed, searching desperately for a way to explain pureblood fanaticism without explaining magic.

“My... family… doesn’t like many things.” he said finally, “they… want to have control. Over _everything_.” 

“Like the music,” Oliver stated, a flash of understanding on his face. Regulus nodded hesitantly, eyes burning.

_You don’t know the half of it._

“Like the music,” Regulus repeated hollowly, feeling fractured. 

The feeling of the last couple weeks of feeling-- of feeling so _comfortable_ \-- seemed to be disintegrating, and every expectation that had been placed upon him as a Black seemed to weigh down on him again. 

How _stupid_ of him to think he’d escape it that easily.

Oliver let go of him, with the same searching look in his eyes.

“Let me walk you home,” Oliver said softly, and at Regulus’ protests, he simply waved a hand, assuring him that he knew these streets like the back of his hand.

The two fell into step, Regulus’ anxiety slowly fading. The street was empty, and the darkness cast around them like a blanket concealing them from sight, all the way into the entrance gate of the Potter house, house shielded by their lush yard, and its size magically hidden from view. It was a comforting sight.

There was a lantern by the window, and Regulus was sure that Sirius and James were up waiting for him, ready to pelt him with questions about muggles-- 

A flicker of warmth ignited in his chest at this. Oliver cleared his throat.

“I’m glad we met,” Oliver said quietly, causing Regulus to look at him in surprise.

“Me too,” Regulus said honestly, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the admission, “er- sorry about all of the chaos, I-”

Before he could blink, Oliver was reaching forward, pulling him into a gentle hug- nothing romantic, or anything that begged something more-- just someone holding him close.

“It’s not your fault,” Oliver said gently above his head. 

And just like that, everything was crashing around his ears, yet again.

Regulus just closed his eyes, breathing into Oliver’s shoulder, and letting everything else disappear if even for a moment.

And if when they pulled away Regulus’s eyes were red and blotchy, neither mentioned it.

“You gonna be alright?” Oliver asked, eyeing the house nervously. 

“Yeah,” Regulus said breathlessly, “I- I think so. I um- thank you.”

They stared at each other for a moment.

“Be _careful_ going home,” Regulus asked nervously, thinking of Orion, “if you see him, just… try and avoid him. He’s- he’s dangerous.” 

He couldn’t picture the man putting in so much effort for a muggle, but one never knew.

“Don’t you worry about me,” Oliver said with mock confidence, but Regulus could see that he had taken his words seriously, “as you now know, I laugh in the face of danger.” 

They both burst into laughter, thinking of the stupid horror movie that Oliver had been so afraid of, a tiny semblance of their easygoing night returning.

“Right,” Regulus said, eyes dancing. Oliver bounced from foot to foot, looking as if he wanted to say something. 

“Drop by the shop sometime,” Oliver said finally, “you’ ve- you’ve got a whole world of music to catch up on.” 

Regulus sighed.

Both he and Oliver had existed their whole lives without knowing about the other’s world- a twist of guilt churned in his stomach. 

_If only he knew about theirs._

But Oliver just smiled at him, his eyes communicating more than his words, as he disappeared into the darkness with a wave.

And when he slipped into the house, James and Sirius immediately asked him how it went, where he’d gone, if they’d taken a car somewhere with twin looks of excitement-- he didn’t tell them about Orion. 

“I’m glad you two had fun,” Sirius said swiftly, eyes flickering with curiosity as they both got ready for bed.

“Yeah,” Regulus said softly.

No, he wouldn’t tell Sirius. 

He didn’t want to see the same trapped look back in Sirius’ eyes that he felt in his heart.


	10. A Threat

After that night, Regulus spent the next week avoiding the tiny music store, feeling twitchy and paranoid. James and Sirius had gone several times (and dutifully invited him every time), but Regulus had merely said he felt like staying home a while, ignoring the horrible pang of guilt building in his chest. 

He told himself it was for the best.

What if Orion followed them again?

He just couldn't risk it.

Sirius and Regulus were settled in their room (it still felt strange calling it that), with Regulus settled in one bed flicking through a book and Sirius digging through his trunk looking for broom polish. He had taken to reading Sirius’ old summer textbooks that he’d stuffed into his trunk all those weeks ago front to back to pass the time (something that horrified James and Sirius to no end).

“Oliver asked about you,” Sirius had said tentatively, “he seemed… kind of worried. About you.” 

“Is that so,” Regulus replied stiffly, forcing himself to keep reading the words in front of him. He methodically forced Oliver (and Orion Black) out of his mind, flipping to another page agitatedly.

“Reg…” Sirius said warningly, and Regulus could almost SEE his gray eyes burning a hole into the back of his head, “did he… do anything? The night you went out?” 

“Nothing happened,” Regulus said shortly, avoiding Sirius’ disbelieving scoff, and snapping the book shut with a click.

“Then why are you avoiding him?” Sirius pushed further, getting up from his bed and crossing his arms, “did he offend you or something? Because you know that-” 

“He didn’t do anything wrong, Sirius,” Regulus snapped moodily, annoyed at Sirius’ suddenly lecturing tone, “it’s just… not a big deal to meet someone one time.” 

Sirius raised an eyebrow, looking unimpressed.

“Well, he told me to give you this,” Sirius said. He pulled a crumpled envelope out of his pocket, throwing it to Regulus who caught it deftly, completely taken aback. 

He tore open the envelope curiously to find a small notecard. 

_Regulus-_

_At the risk of sounding a bit desperate, I just want you to have this note. Your brother and his friend were saying you don’t have a phone, so I reckon that’s why you haven’t called. It’s alright if you’ve been busy and all- I know we aren’t exactly close but..._

_I just want to let you know I saw your dad on my way back home. Nothing weird happened, he just stood across the street from me for a couple of minutes before he left somewhere. Didn’t see where. Took a different path home so he couldn’t follow me, just in case!_

_I don’t know your situation, but I want you to know that you won’t scare me away with any of it, I swear. I’ve seen some weird stuff too. If you do want to stay away, that’s fine, I just want you to know that I’m glad I met you. You seem like a very brave person._

_Anyway, yeah. This was a little awkward to write but if I don’t see you again-_

_Wishing you all the best,_

_Oliver_

Regulus couldn’t help but smile at the genuine (and somewhat endearing) concern emanating from the tiny, slanted handwriting.

“Of course I don’t want to stay away,” Regulus muttered to himself, conflicted feelings returning at full force. He had assumed that Oliver would just… let it go- especially with the whole complicated family thing. 

“Then come with us next time, then,” Sirius said quietly. Regulus sighed as a response, flopping back onto the bed but tucking the note carefully into his book. 

“Maybe,” Regulus said softly, heart sinking. 

Sirius didn’t pry, which Regulus was grateful for, but suddenly cutting off ties didn’t seem as easy as he had originally thought. 

***

Just as he’d been toying with the idea of visiting Oliver again, the idea was put to the side as the Potters decided that it would be a great day to get school supplies.

“Alright boys, Sirius and I will head to Madame Malkin’s to get some new robes-- Sirius here seems to have grown taller again-- and James, Charlus, and Regulus will head toward the bookstore.” Euphemia declared at the entrance of Diagon Alley, as groups of people streamed around them, “we’ll meet you there.” 

“Yes ma’am,” James said, with a mock salute, causing Euphemia to ruffle his hair. Regulus noticed Sirius watching this interaction with a soft smile, a bit of longing in his lingering gaze at such easy affection. 

Then James, Regulus, and Charlus embarked into the alley- alive with Hogwarts students carrying piles of new books, a few excitable owls flying overhead, and colorful displays in the windows. Prospective first years that barely reached Regulus’ shoulder were talking over each other in their excitement, comparing newly bought wands or ogling at broomsticks.

Though the wizarding world felt comfortable, it didn’t feel like _home_ anymore-- as James and Charlus chatted idly, Regulus could feel himself looking around for anyone that might be watching them. 

Regulus felt, not for the first time like an invisible target was being drawn on his back simply for leaving the Blacks. Betraying the family.

“What do you think about that, Regulus?” Charlus interrupted his thoughts. Charlus and James were both looking at him expectantly.

“Oh- um, I’m sorry Charlus- I didn’t hear you,” Regulus replied distractedly, staring down at his shoes. The older man’s eyebrows furrowed in what could have been an expression of concern, but he didn’t comment. 

“That’s alright,” he said gently, “James and I were just going to run into the Quidditch Supply to get some broom polish. If you want to keep going to the bookstore, you can, or you can come with us-”

“I can keep going,” Regulus interjected quickly, uncomfortable with standing in one place for too long, “I’ll- I’ll meet you all there if that’s alright.” 

After waving to the two, he made his way down the Alley with his head down, only stopping at the familiar bookstore. He slipped inside, taking comfort in the dusty, quiet bookshelves, heart rate returning to the semblance of a normal pace. He ran his fingertips over the spines of the books, taking in the various topics of 5th-year texts.

_‘Nothing quite as interesting and colorful as muggle vinyl, though’_ he thought wryly.

Even so, he absently picked up a Defense Against the Dark Arts textbook, flicking through the chapters. 

Maybe today wouldn’t be a disaster. 

Maybe he was just being paranoid.

“Well, well, _well_ ,” a familiar voice made his blood go cold, “if it isn’t my favorite little cousin.” 

Regulus turned around, heart in his throat, to face Bellatrix’s intense gaze and knowing smirk. Behind her stood Rabastan Lestrange, leaning casually on the end of a bookshelf, and Narcissa, stoic as ever, her hair dyed a shockingly platinum blonde. Narcissa avoided his gaze when he looked at her. 

“Bella.” Regulus greeted curtly.

Bellatrix’s smirk widened.

Her eyes flicked down to the textbook in his hands.

“You always were the clever one weren’t you,” she said, almost to herself, “clearly… not clever enough.” 

Regulus swallowed, eyes flicking to Lestrange who leered behind her. He had never really cared for the man-- not for anything he had done, but just the way he always seemed to look down his nose at people. 

Like he knew something they didn’t.

“What do you want?” Regulus asked cordially, hand slowly drifting to his pocket where his wand was.

Bellatrix’s smirk twisted into a snarl.

“Why would I want anything from a blood-traitor like you?” Bellatrix hissed, eyes narrowed, “you were first in line for the movement _and_ the Mark, and even _you_ turned out to be a spineless coward.” 

“What ‘mark’?” Regulus asked through gritted teeth. He again glanced questioningly at Narcissa, who shot him a warning look. 

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” Lestrange said coolly, eyes fixed on Regulus’s wand hand, “you and your brother are too low for such an honor anyways.” 

“I don’t care,” Regulus snapped, pushing down his anxiety and summoning the coldest look he could muster, “just do what you like and leave Sirius and I out of it.” 

Bellatrix laughed in a sharp, high note.

“Leave Sirius and I out of it!” she echoed in a high, mocking voice.

Regulus turned, shaking his head, ready to walk away from the group when Bellatrix continued.

“So you don’t care about the boy?” Bellatrix crooned, and Regulus’ heart skipped a beat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regulus replied instantly, turning to face them again. Bellatrix crossed her arms.

“Someone may have... let it slip that you were out with a boy,” Bellatrix continued in disgust, “a muggle boy.” 

Regulus’ mouth went dry. 

That’s why Orion had followed them. 

So he could show them that they couldn’t leave, not really. 

Not without consequences.

“Oh, you have nothing to say to that?” Bellatrix said sweetly, voice transitioning from sugary to accusatory in an instant, “you're just another blood-traitor who likes hanging around those filthy _animals_ to feel better about yourself.”

Regulus took a step back, clenching his fists, a spike of anger coursing through his body at the words. But arguing would just be stupid, especially when he was outnumbered. 

“He’s nothing,” Regulus spat out, unclenching his fists and feeling nauseous, “he’s _nobody._ ” 

“Really? Because your father told us that you two were… pretty _friendly_ if you catch my drift.” Rabastan drawled, ambling closer to him. There was something predatory in his gaze, as he looked at him, and Regulus stumbled back further.

Surely Orion hadn’t...

“Well, he saw wrong.” Regulus shot back with confidence he didn’t feel, but Lestrange merely grabbed his wrist in an iron grip. 

“A fag and a blood-traitor,” he said condemningly, breath tickling his cheek, “imagine if _he_ caught wind of this.”

Regulus had no idea who ‘he’ was supposed to be, but he could feel in his bones that the threat wasn’t an empty one. He tugged uselessly away from Rabastan, but he didn’t budge.

“Face it, Black, you’re done for,” Rabastan said silkily.

Regulus knew full well that he didn’t mean just in the bookstore-- the entire Slytherin house would be following the lead of a Lestrange, a Black, and a soon-to-be Malfoy, or at the very least they would be avoiding him like the plague. The coming years would surely be hell. 

But there seemed to be something deeper there-- all the ominous talk of ‘marks’ and the ‘movement’- what did it all mean?

“Let go of him,” a cold voice ordered from behind him. Lestrange looked up, smirk fading, but didn’t let go.

“Potter,” Lestrange greeted rudely, a flicker of annoyance in his eyes, and Regulus turned, half mortified and half relieved to see Charlus, James standing behind him looking tense. 

Gone was the kind and gentle smile that he knew-- instead, a grim, flat look was pressed on Charlus's face, and Regulus suddenly understood why the man was Head Auror. He was cool and poised, and a single look seemed to cut straight through the three like a knife.

“Regulus and I were just... catching up,” Lestrange explained tightly, glancing down at Regulus as if daring him to say otherwise. 

“Don’t make me laugh,” Charlus snapped, with thinly veiled disgust, “I heard what you said loud and clear. Now get out of here before I arrest you for disturbing the peace.” 

Lestrange let go, fixing Regulus with a dark look before the three left silently-- Narcissa trailing behind Bellatrix, who sniffed haughtily on her way out of the aisle. Only when Regulus heard the ring of the bells on the door and let out a shaky sigh of relief.

“Are you alright?” James burst out, stepping forward and looking like he was checking Regulus for injuries. Before Regulus could respond, Charlus quietly put a hand on James’ shoulder.

“James, go find your mother and Sirius,” Charlus said, sharing a look with James who immediately quieted. James left, and Regulus watched through the storefront window as he walked briskly down the street, a determined look in his eye.

He looked up at Charlus nervously. 

“Regulus,” Charlus said calmly, leading him out of the store and to a more isolated corner of the alley, “I need you to be honest with me.” 

Regulus bit his lip, twitching at the razor-sharp look still fresh on his face. 

“I overheard Lestrange say something about your father telling them about that muggle boy,” he said evenly. 

“Yeah,” Regulus said finally, flushing at the mention of Oliver. Charlus crouched down a little, meeting Regulus’ eyes with urgency.

“Have you had any contact with your father these past few weeks?” Charlus asked. 

“Not really,” Regulus said finally, fidgeting, “he just- I just saw him across the street. The one time I went out with Oliver.”

Charlus frowned, the line between his eyebrows deepening. 

“And he didn’t do anything?” Charlus probed, and Regulus shook his head mutely. 

Charlus sighed, looking a little more relaxed. 

“If that ever happens again, know that you can tell me,” Charlus ordered softly, “he- _they_ should not be able to threaten you, or your muggle friend.” 

He remembered the cold look in Charlus’ eyes. It reminded him of Orion- the same sort of distant rage-- but different, somehow. He gulped, unsure if Charlus was angry at him for everything.

“I only met him once,” Regulus reassured Charlus anxiously, “um… the muggle boy.” 

Charlus sighed, any cold look seeming to evaporate from his eyes in an instant to be replaced with a weary one. He patted Regulus’ shoulder. 

“It’s alright about the boy,” Charlus reassured him honestly, “I’m not angry about _that_ \- in fact, I’m very glad that you’ve found someone. I just worry that your parents are still following you.” 

Regulus looked up in surprise. Charlus was smiling at him, not a trace of mockery in his gaze.

“I can stop seeing him, if that's easier-” Regulus suggested, adjusting his jacket uncomfortably but Charlus shook his head.

“You are lesser to _no one_ ,” Charlus said, making sure that Regulus was meeting his eyes, “and your muggle friend isn’t lesser either. Don’t let anyone else convince you otherwise.”

Then, Charlus pulled him into a hug.

Regulus stiffened. He couldn’t even remember a time that Orion had hugged him. But Charlus didn’t seem offended or angry or disgusted or anything that Regulus could have possibly expected. 

Regulus hesitantly returned the hug, the lump in his throat growing. 

“We’ll always be here for you and Sirius,” Charlus continued softly, “you shouldn’t have to deal with them alone.” 

***

When Charlus and Regulus came home, a pile of 5th-year books and supplies were waiting for him on the table (presumably Sirius, James, and Euphemia had continued shopping for him before they’d left). 

They all seemed to be making the very unconvincing effort to act normal- but at dinner, James was offering Regulus more extra mashed potatoes than necessary, Sirius was glued to his side, and Euphemia and Charlus were exchanging knowing looks from across the table.

Regulus cleared his throat, feeling a bit awkward about the weird atmosphere he’d created. 

“Sorry,” he said finally, poking at the second helping of salad that James had just spooned onto his plate, “I-er- seem to be a magnet for angry family members.” 

“So am I,” Sirius replied, and Regulus stiffened in surprise, “um- sorry for cutting the day short.” 

Regulus looked over at the boy, who was staring at his plate with an unreadable expression on his face.

“Did they…” Regulus started, but Sirius just waved dismissively.

“Walburga,” he said tiredly, “tried to stir up some trouble with us too.” 

Regulus sighed. Of course, they would be trying to make Sirius’s life difficult too. He thought he’d been protecting him from that but apparently… getting burned by the Blacks was more far-reaching than either of them had thought.

“It’s not your fault,” James said automatically, looking first at Sirius and then at Regulus. Regulus got the sense that this wasn’t the first time he’d had to say that based on the way Sirius just shrugged half-heartedly. 

There was a moment of contemplative silence.

“You know,” Euphemia said thoughtfully, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear and setting down her fork, “Charlus and I always wanted to have more children, but we only were able to have one.”

She fiddled with her napkin, a tiny smile on her face as she glanced at James and then at Sirius and Regulus.

“This may be a bit of a selfish wish,” she continued lightly, “but I want you to know that family isn’t just blood.” 

Regulus hastily looked down at his knees, blushing at her heartfelt tone. He wasn’t used to this sort of outpouring of emotion for anything except for anger. He could hear Sirius shifting at his side. 

“You two are blessings to us,” Euphemia said seriously, “and we want to be here for you no matter what.” 

Regulus glanced over at Sirius, who’s eyes were suspiciously wet, and discreetly patted his hand under the table. 

“Thank you,” Regulus said softly, Sirius echoing him with a strange look on his face. Regulus recognized that look-- the one where Sirius was holding it all in.

Hiding it away. 

“Keep that up, Mum, and we’ll all be crying into our mashed potatoes,” James announced, completely unashamed that he was wiping his eyes with his sweater sleeves under his glasses. 

Sirius cracked a smile at this, watching as Euphemia smoothed James’s hair behind his ear, looking a bit teary herself. 

“Now you lot, eat your dinner,” James ordered accusingly, grinning at Sirius and Regulus, “I didn’t spend all that time _slaving_ over that salad for nothing.”

Sirius sighed dramatically, seeming to fall back into the easy rhythm he always did with James.

“Yes, Mother,” Sirius shot back at James, and then they were off, arguing about the difficulty of salad making. Regulus hid a smile behind his glass, sipping thoughtfully on his water. 

How had the Blacks gotten it so wrong? 

He felt less alone at that moment than he had ever felt in his life.

He hadn’t left his family behind…

He’d found one. 


	11. Birthday Surprises

Regulus hurtled down from the sky, eyes fixed on the golden blur, almost disappearing into the grass.

He vaguely registered James’ shout, reaching out with a deft hand, snatching the Snitch out of the air just before it hit the ground. He let his legs brush through the tall grass, turning the shiny, golden sphere in his hand triumphantly before he got off his broom at a jog. 

Sirius circled overhead, whooping, and dove off his broom, nearly taking Regulus down with him as he dismounted.

“That was amazing!” Sirius crowed, “you beat James by a good hundred meters, at least,” 

“I’d say it was fifty,” James argued, but with an exhilarated smile bright on his face. He leaped off his broom over their heads, floating casually down with one hand.

“Showoff,” Sirius said in a stage whisper as James’s feet met the ground, hand on Regulus’s shoulder, “he’s a sore loser, don’t mind him.”

James punched Sirius in the arm, before turning to Regulus with a look of despair, “Reg, you seriously need to stop being so good! You’re going to be a pain in the ass for the Gryffindor team this year.” 

Regulus rolled his eyes, internally glowing at the use of his childhood nickname. Sirius was the only one who used it, but James seemed to have taken to it too after hearing it. 

He’d never let him know that though.

“I’ll take that as a compliment, Potter,” he replied, pressing the snitch into James’ hand with a smirk.

James grumbled good-naturedly, and the three jogged their way through the backyard and back into the house, the afternoon sun seeping through the windows. 

Then, Regulus, squished between the two in the kitchen, taking turns pouring orange juice into three tall glasses, listened to James ramble on about Quidditch strategy with half an ear. 

“ _So_ , it’s still your day, what do you want to do?” Sirius asked gamely. It took Regulus a couple of minutes to realize that Sirius was talking to him. 

“Me?” Regulus asked blankly. Sirius blinked at him. He had a look of almost childish excitement dancing on his eyes, holding back a grin. 

“Yeah, you,” he replied, poking Regulus in the cheek. Regulus swatted his hand away apprehensively, glancing at James, who just shrugged and looked just as clueless. 

“You don’t-- _Reg_ ,” Sirius scolded, “you’re not allowed to forget your own birthday!” 

“Really? Happy birthday!” James exclaimed, “you should have said something!”

“Oh,” Regulus muttered, blushing, “I did kind of forget.” 

Having a summer birthday was never really a cause for celebration at the Grimmauld Place-- it usually just meant another painfully stiff dinner with their parents paired with some lecture about the importance of passing on the family name.

But no matter how bad things got, Sirius had never, _ever_ forgotten Regulus’ birthday. 

“What if I don’t _want_ to do anything?” Regulus stated honestly, “it’s not like I can invite anyone I know over… they aren’t exactly...” 

They all paused, and Regulus winced at the thought of Avery, Goyle, or even Mulciber coming over. They were acquaintances, familial alliances at best, but not friends.

“You should invite Oliver to dinner then,” Sirius suggested, “the muggle repellent charms ought to work on the yard to make it all look normal, so that wouldn’t be an issue.” 

“Sirius!” Regulus said exasperatedly at Sirius’s insistence at guilting Regulus into going to the record shop, and Sirius put his hands up in a placating gesture. 

But the idea wasn’t completely horrible. 

The days had slipped away and he had been _meaning_ to go…

“Maybe I will,” Regulus sighed, deflating slightly. He DID want to see him again- part of him was irrationally afraid that Oliver wouldn’t like to see him again after the whole Orion ordeal.

“You’re turning what… fifteen?” James clarified, standing up and chugging the last of his orange juice. He put his cup in the sink, then started rifling through the shelves.

Regulus nodded slowly.

“Alright, then,” James said, clapping his hands in a no-nonsense way, “shoo.” 

“Huh?” 

“Go on, out! Sirius and I are going make you a cake and it’s going to be a _surprise_.” James declared, waving a spoon at him authoritatively. 

Regulus raised an eyebrow. 

“Doesn't it defeat the point of a surprise if you tell me?” Regulus asked him, amused.

“Technicalities.” Sirius said breezily, “Go… read a book or something then, or whatever it is you do for fun.” 

Regulus left the kitchen, half touched by their determination in baking him a cake and half worried that the two would somehow blow up the oven.

“Happy birthday, dear,” Euphemia called warmly from the living room, looking up from her paperwork as he passed, “Take your wand with you if you go out.”

“Thank you!” Regulus replied politely, pulling an oversized jacket from the coat rack near the day, tugging it over his head and making sure his wand was in his pocket.

He didn’t think he’d ever fully get used to having so much freedom to go out. 

He rushed out into the street, a bounce in his step, shaking his hair out of his eyes and admiring a flock of birds overhead-- a sharp contrast against the gray sky. 

Birthdays had never been a ‘big deal’, but it was nice to feel like it mattered.

***

As he walked he noticed more and more uniform-clad students walking down the street-- instead of robes, there were boys wearing trousers, along with crisp white shirts and crooked ties, and gaggles of girls with pleated gray skirts and sweaters.

He slowed when he zeroed in on a lone figure walking against the flow of students where the students were thinning out, his white shirt rolled up to his elbows. 

He was the right height, yes, but there was a sort of stiffness in his shoulders that Regulus didn’t recognize. And, most notably, his curly hair wasn’t long anymore-- but short around the sides and front. 

Could it be...

“Oliver?” Regulus said tentatively. Oliver turned, with an apprehensive, tired look on his face.

“Regulus?”

As Regulus neared, he couldn’t help but notice the beginnings of a black eye forming on his right eye, and a tiny cut on his lip just starting to scab over. 

Another group of muggle boys walked past, bursting into laughter as they passed the pair, before continuing down the street. Oliver stiffly stepped toward the curb so they could pass, looking a bit self-conscious. 

His hand tightened on the strap of his satchel. 

“You’ve... cut your hair then,” Regulus pointed out, carefully not mentioning the interruption or the bruises. 

They continued in the direction that Oliver had been going, the tension in Oliver’s walk seeming to fade minutely with each step, but a conflicted look lingered. 

“I always cut it when school rolls around,” he explained unenthusiastically, frown pulling at his lips.

“So it’s for school,” Regulus clarified, a little taken aback.

“Something like that,” Oliver responded shortly. 

Regulus cleared his throat, worry simmering in his stomach-- at what, he didn’t know.

“So... I just wanted you to know that I got your note,” he said, “I’m sorry I haven’t been by. I wanted to.”

“Really?” Oliver asked hopefully.

“Well, of course, I did,” Regulus said quickly, “why... wouldn’t I?” 

Oliver avoided Regulus’s gaze, looking agitated.

“There’s- there’s a lot you don’t know about me,” he settled on finally after a long moment of silence, mouth twisting. He looked serious. Regulus swallowed.

“Well,” Regulus said quietly, “there may be even _more_ that you don’t know about me.” 

Oliver shrugged, looking if possible, even more dejected. 

“Besides,” Regulus reminded him pointedly, “you were the one who told me I ‘won’t scare you away with any of it’. That applies to you too, you know.”

Regulus figured he must have said something right when something warmed in Oliver’s gaze, the ghost of a smile appearing on his face, if only for a second.

“Let’s get out of here,” Oliver said quietly. 

***

Regulus waited patiently, watching as Oliver stood in a tiny red room with clear paneled windows labeled ‘TELEPHONE’ in large letters, pressing a device to his ear. He talked into the device, hands moving when he spoke. 

Regulus shivered, buttoning his coat, suddenly reminded of the cold, misty day that he had left the Black’s. He didn’t miss it. 

“Right then,” Oliver said, slipping out of the booth, “I’m good to stay out for the evening,” 

“I’m glad,” Regulus said. One side of Oliver’s collar that had flopped up and Regulus instinctively reached up to straighten it, hand hesitating. A few, long scars were poking just above his shirt on his exposed neck. Had they been there the last time they’d seen each other?

It _had_ been dark outside, so they could have been there...

He turned the collar down and smoothed it without comment. 

“So, where to?” Regulus asked, trying to infuse some enthusiasm in his voice. 

And that’s how they found themselves on a bus headed further into London. Regulus fumbled around with the muggle money for a bit (accidentally pulling a galleon from his pocket and hastily putting it back), but the two settled into two rickety chairs in the corner without hitch. 

  
Regulus watched as the buildings went past in a blur, muggles everywhere walking around, more school kids clumped in little groups next to shop windows.

“You didn’t ask,” Oliver commented after a while, “about the scars. Or anything.” 

Regulus turned from the window toward Oliver, who was staring at him intently. 

“Do you want me to?” Regulus asked gently. 

Regulus’s eyes flicked instinctively to the tips of the scars, and then to the familiar pendant dangling out of his shirt-- it was a pretty design, with a tiny crescent moon.

“People usually ask,” Oliver said without explanation.

Regulus bit his lip, not sure what to say to that.

The strange distance between them seemed to grow. 

The two were completely silent until the next stop, where they got off at an uncrowded intersection. 

Regulus turned- the area wasn’t one that he would have chosen- the shops all seemed to be closed, and the streets all but abandoned- but he fell in step with Oliver all the same, his sense of unease growing.

“Your father,” Oliver said in a strange voice, “what’s his name?” 

“Um… his name is Orion,” Regulus replied slowly, “why do you ask?” 

Oliver swallowed, stopping in his tracks and turning to face Regulus, and suddenly his strange, stiff stance was back.

“And your last name is Black,” Oliver stated quietly, something condemning in the way he said the word.

“Yes, how did you-” Regulus said confusedly, “Oliver, did he talk to you? You _said_ he didn’t talk to you, in your letter-” 

Oliver crossed his arms, something flashing in his stare.

“No,” Oliver said coldly, “I just realized that I know him. And your... family.” 

Regulus took a step back from the boy in an instant, drawing his wand. 

  
  



	12. Puzzles

“It figures the one person I meet…” Oliver muttered, a hurt look in his eyes. Regulus took a step back from him.

“Did he send you?” Regulus asked, voice shaking, “if my father sent you to make me do something, I won’t do it.” 

Oliver’s eyebrows furrowed, and he opened his mouth to say something but Regulus beat him to it, mind teeming with possibilities.

Had his father been _that_ manipulative?

Was he now controlling who he could see?

“Whatever it is, I want to stay out of it.” Regulus snapped with conviction, “They’ve burned me off the tree. I’m _not_ part of the family anymore.”

He took a deep breath, trying to brush away any thought he’d had for Oliver- the boy had just seemed so genuine, it seemed inconceivable that he was working from the inside...

“Aren’t you going to say something?” Regulus asked anxiously, hand gripping the wand tighter.

Oliver took a hesitant step forward, biting his lip. 

“I- I think we've both got it wrong,” Oliver replied, “I- I don’t like your family. But... it sounds like you don’t either.” 

Regulus dropped his wand arm by a fraction.

“Look, I don’t have a wand,” Oliver continued softly, “so why don’t we just sit down?”

Regulus slowly dropped his wand arm to his side, heart still racing, and the two settled on a nearby bench. Regulus sat down a cautious distance away from the boy, gripping the edge of the bench. Oliver rubbed the bridge of his nose.

“Do you go to a place called Hogwarts?” Oliver asked seriously.

“ _Yes_ , now how do you know my father?” Regulus pressed for answers though gritted teeth. 

“I don’t,” Oliver replied. 

“You _just_ said-”

“I know _of_ him,” Oliver pleaded, a desperate look clawing its way out, “just- look, this is hard enough to explain, so can you just bear with me for a moment?” 

Regulus nodded hesitantly, and Oliver sighed, gathering his thoughts and seeming to deflate into the bench.

“I wasn’t allowed to go to Hogwarts,” Oliver confessed, haltingly looking up at the grey sky, “and I’m not allowed a wand. Your father is part of why I can’t.” 

Regulus shifted in his seat, intrigued. Oliver shot him a humorless, close-lipped smile.

“The only thing I know about wizards is the contents of a Hogwarts letter telling me I couldn’t go.”

“ _Why?_ ” Regulus asked, finally unsticking his mouth.

How could his father prevent the admission of any Hogwarts student?

That alone seemed ludicrous.

Oliver took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself.

“I’m- I’m a werewolf,” Oliver confessed, and Regulus’s entire brain seemed to freeze in shock at that, “and my parents aren't… magical. Your father managed to pull some strings on some school board, saying I’d be a danger, and that there’s no point anyway if my parents are non-magical…” 

“They just left you, a- a _werewolf_ , with muggles?” Regulus spluttered, trying to imagine young, 11-year-old Oliver being told that he was different, there was nothing he could do about it, and that he would just have to deal with it alone in a world that didn’t understand him. 

  
  


“Your father was the one who sent me a… _guide_ … on werewolves,” Oliver said quietly, eyes darkening, and Regulus could only imagine what sort of biased book his father would send, “his job was to have some sort of government worker keep an eye on me those first couple years, make sure I didn’t get into trouble-” 

“Ministry Officials on Regulation of Magical Creatures,” Regulus muttered automatically, mind sifting back to the many papers on his father’s desk- condemning families with werewolves or other heritage that included the blood of ‘magical creatures’.

“Yeah,” Oliver mumbled.

“That’s _so_ unfair!” Regulus snapped, and Oliver twitched, “sorry- not _you_ , my father- there _have_ to be more students like you out there, he just does it on a case-by-case basis anyway, so it wouldn't even be…” 

“It doesn’t matter,” Oliver cut in sharply, a bitter look on his face, “I don’t even want to be part of that world. If all _wizards_ are like your father there’s no point.” 

To Regulus’s chagrin, Oliver seemed to be right. The Wizarding World, especially the traditionalists in charge of things, tended to brush all things 'magical creature' to the side. Hell, some people still weren’t on board with muggle-borns coming to school either. 

He didn’t even know how _James and Sirius_ , goofy as they were, would feel about a werewolf. 

But then again, there were wizards like Dumbledore or Charlus...

_You are lesser to no one._

_Your muggle friend isn’t lesser either._

Charlus's words echoed in the back of his head.

“Not all wizards are like him,” Regulus argued. Oliver scowled, looking down.

“Doesn’t matter,” Oliver said, fiddling with his pendant and watching him as he mulled it all over, “I’ve got the store and my family. And so far, I haven’t _needed_ magic, really. Jack drives me out of town for the full moons, and I don’t bother anyone.” 

Regulus shook his head at the irony of it all. 

Oliver didn’t even know what sorts of wonderful magic was out there.

He didn’t know if he needed it the same way that Regulus hadn’t known he needed Queen music.

“So you- you don’t know _anything_ about wizards besides my- my father?” Regulus clarified, heart dropping to his stomach. 

That was perhaps the worst example of a wizard he could think of showing Oliver.

“And you,” Oliver tacked on lamely. 

“Well,” Regulus said finally, putting his head in his hands, head swimming with new information, “I can confidently say that we are both very bad at being normal.”

He could hear Oliver’s strangled laugh and looked up. Oliver looked like he was about to start crying, but with one, tired sigh he seemed to compose himself. Regulus wondered if Oliver had ever talked to anyone about this before- before realizing that no, he couldn’t have- all his friends would have been muggles.

The universe was cruel sometimes.

“The whole, um, werewolf thing…” Oliver said softly, breaking through his thoughts, “is that- is that alright?” 

“I don’t know,” he said hoarsely, hating more than ever the family he’d come from, “is it alright that my dad is trying to sabotage your fucking existence?”

“No,” Oliver said quietly, “but your dad isn’t you. I’m sorry I ever thought otherwise. I just… panicked when I figured out you were related. I didn't connect the dots until now.”

Regulus looked at Oliver, all grim and tired-looking on the sad bench, and thought, inexplicably, of Bellatrix. How she could call someone like him an ‘animal’- how those thoughts had crossed his _own_ mind when he was at the Grimmauld Place was beyond him. Mind made up, Regulus stood up grimly, tucking his wand back into his jean pocket. 

“Come home with me,” Regulus said decidedly, “they won’t mind an extra person at the dinner table.”

“And they’re _different_ ,” he added, at Oliver’s reluctant look.

Regulus tried another tactic.

“Look, you were the first person in my life who showed me the muggle world,” Regulus said seriously, “it’s _my_ turn to show you that wizards aren’t so bad either. You don't even have to tell them anything about you, and they'll still like you.” 

Oliver sighed, looking unconvinced but relieved that Regulus still seemed to want him around. 

“Alright,” he said shakily, standing up, “alright. Just- have- have you ever met another werewolf before?”

Regulus sighed.

“I hadn’t even seen a _movie_ before I met you, Oliver,” he said, laughter bubbling up in his throat at Oliver’s mouth dropping open at this confession, “I think we're both equally clueless.” 

The two started walking toward the bus stop again, Regulus grappling if he’d made either the worst or the best decision of his life. Either way, he was determined to show Oliver that there were other, far better wizards than Orion Black. 

*** 

When they reached the Potters (Oliver stumbling back in surprise at the magically expanded yard), they opened the door to be greeted by Sirius and James’s enthusiastic, out-of-tune rendition of ‘Happy Birthday’ and a very lopsided 15th birthday cake in the middle of the dining room table. The whole thing was framed with what seemed to be various handmade signs strewn from the ceiling that said ‘Happy Birthday’ in rainbow letters.

Dinner was a whirl, in which James took it upon himself to regal them with stories about baking the cake (placing most of the blame for the cake’s strange shape on Sirius). Charlus and Euphemia warmly drew a wide-eyed Oliver into the conversation, and Sirius obsessed over muggle bands with him for at least a good half-hour. 

Then, as the two lay on the ground of Sirius and Regulus’s room, listening to James’s old record player paired Sirius and James argue about the dishes in the other room, Oliver turned to look over at Regulus. 

His shirt was slowly becoming more wrinkled, the top button undone, and a contemplative expression on his face. 

Regulus raised an eyebrow at him expectantly. 

Oliver rolled his eyes.

“Alright, alright,” he said begrudgingly, “not _all_ wizards are bad. Still don’t know about the 'magic' though,” 

Regulus just shrugged, smiling at him.

Oliver shifted closer to him.

“You never said it was your birthday,” he said softly, looking a little guilty, “I would have gotten you something. And probably not talked your ear off about all that.” 

“Don’t feel bad,” Regulus said rolling his eyes, “I nearly forgot anyway... I would never expect a gift from someone I’d only met once.” 

“Still,” he mumbled. 

Regulus hadn’t even realized how much he’d missed the way Oliver’s eyes scrunched up when he smiled. 

“I’m just glad we talked,” Regulus said with layered meaning. He shook his head, overwhelmed with the amount of craziness the day had brought. 

“Me too.” Oliver said self-consciously, “I know I don’t really… belong anywhere but I... ”

"Don't say that." Regulus chided. 

He wondered, anger twisting in his stomach, if Orion had been the one to tell young, eleven year old Oliver that he didn’t belong anywhere. He wouldn't be surprised. Sometimes the best people were the ones who got dealt the worst cards.

Regulus reached up, thumb brushing over a tiny scar on Oliver’s cheek, dusted over with freckles, and suddenly it didn’t matter how it had gotten there. Not really.

It was just a part of him that Regulus had never noticed before.

Two brown eyes met his blue ones.

“You’re- you're still a good person,” he said simply, choosing to push the flaws of wizards, the politics of werewolves, and the fears of his family out of his mind. 

Oliver sighed, looking like he didn’t quite believe him, a shy, questioning look in his eyes, but with a sort of warm contentment as he took Regulus’s hands in his own. 

Their fingers intertwined perfectly.

  
  



	13. Beginning Again

“I’m ready to press charges,” Regulus announced without preamble, causing Sirius to choke on his tea and Charlus to glance up from the morning paper in mild surprise.

James and Euphemia, both in the kitchen, didn’t hear them. 

“Alright,” Charlus responded, adjusting his glasses, “Did… did something happen to make you change your mind?” 

“No,” Regulus said, the lie slipping off his tongue easily. Too easily, because Sirius glanced side-along at him with a protective look in his eyes. Sirius set down his teacup, hand creeping toward Regulus’s shoulder.

No, nothing else had happened to him, specifically- but that didn’t matter. 

Truth be told, he’d never been truly angry with his parents.   
He’d been more afraid of misstepping. Saying something wrong and toppling the house of cards. 

But Orion had taken something from Oliver- that little sliver of hope that he’d belonged somewhere. 

And he wanted someone, _anyone_ , to pay for that. 

“They’ll probably just try and buy their way out of any charges,” Sirius pointed out, looking pleased, but rather taken aback.   
  
“I still want to do it,” Regulus replied firmly. 

There was a pause where the three just looked at each other.

“We’ll have your memories,” Charlus said grimly, “they can’t wriggle out of that.” 

“Can I give them to you now?” he asked, hands curling into fists. 

_Be strong_.

“Oh,” Charlus blinked, a little flustered at his sudden enthusiasm, putting down his paper quickly, “yes, we can. Are you sure? We can do it later if you’re more comfortable-”

“I’m sure,” Regulus said, willing his voice to come out steady. 

_For Oliver_ , he thought to himself grimly, _and Sirius_. 

Both had suffered at the hand of their parents in different ways-- but he was the one who had the real evidence. 

“Reg,” Sirius said warningly, grip tightening on his shoulder. Regulus looked at him.

“I want to,” he said quietly, “I’m just- I’m done with them.” 

Sirius didn’t reply to that, but Regulus felt like he’d crossed yet another bridge to the “other side”. Sirius had, after all, been done with them for much longer than he had. 

***

The memories were jarring-- he hadn’t even realized how long he’d been cursed until he stood in the Pensieve with Charlus. He’d assumed that it was an exaggeration that his mind had made up- that the curses weren’t that bad.

But they were.

It was strange, watching himself scream and writhe with clinical detachment- and it was even stranger watching his Mother on the other side of the wand.

After a few minutes, Charlus had pulled him unceremoniously from the Pensieve and guided him to the couch. Regulus was about to ask why but realized that his breaths were coming out fast and short. He cleared his throat, trying to get a grip on his self-control.

“I can go back in-” Regulus started to say determinedly, but Charlus shook his head.

Regulus nodded, closing his eyes, trying to force himself to feel righteously angry again- thinking of Oliver, thinking of Sirius, and probably the countless others that the Blacks had manipulated. 

  
But instead, he just felt sad. 

“I didn’t realize...” Regulus started, face in his hands.

_I didn’t realize how bad it was._

Charlus crouched down in front of him, worry apparent in his eyes, but Regulus just shook his head.

He thought of the boy he’d left behind.  
The one hadn’t planned to leave. 

That boy seemed worlds away from the one he was now. 

***

After that, he did feel… lighter. 

Almost like he’d left that part of him behind in safe hands, all while a new part of himself was finally getting set into motion. 

“I wish summer was a little longer for you,” Oliver murmured wistfully. 

Regulus shifted, taking in the drifting, fluffy clouds above him, before closing his eyes.

The day was pleasant and lethargic as the two lie in an abandoned field- Regulus with his head resting on Oliver’s stomach, Oliver absentmindedly slipping his fingers through his hair. 

“You’ll have to owl me,” Regulus said softly, curling into his gentle touch.

Oliver sighed.

“I still don’t get it,” he mused, “wizards are supposed to have all of this magic and your primary mode of communication is just to… fasten a piece of paper to an _owl?_ It makes no sense.”

Regulus cracked open an eye, shooting him an unimpressed look. Oliver just grinned sunnily back at him. 

“You know I’ll write,” Oliver promised finally, looking back up to the sky, “I got that letter to you last time, didn’t I? Even without an owl.” 

“Yeah,” Regulus replied grinning, “you did.” 

That week, Oliver and Regulus had spent almost every afternoon together, compiling a list of things the other hadn’t done.

_“You’re telling me you haven’t even ridden a bike before?”_   
_“Says the guy who’s never even ridden a broom.”_   
_“Why would I want to ride a broom anyway?”_

Oliver told him everything about being a werewolf: and Regulus listened raptly about how he’d get sent a ration of healing balm every couple months, and how much he dreaded explaining the newest scars to his muggle friends, how alone he felt when standing in the woods, waiting for the inevitable as the full moon rose over the trees.

His Defense textbook, in the chapter on werewolves, had said everything about the wolf within, but not the person.

So Oliver had shown him his brother’s beat up, green Ford Capri blasting heavy metal through dusty speakers, his favorite zig-zagging bus route around the city, and more of his records- captivating Regulus as they spun a whole new world of beautiful sounds.

In turn, Regulus told Oliver everything he could about the _beauty_ of the world of magic. About how he could fly on a broomstick amidst the clouds, the reverence for and purity of real unicorns, which portraits at Hogwarts were good conversationalists, and how much he loved the feeling of getting a spell right. 

Regulus sat up, stretching, and Oliver joining him, arms resting on his knees, tiny pieces of grass stuck in his thick hair. 

“Doesn’t it bother you,” Oliver said softly, “that I… I have magic and I don’t want to use it?” 

Regulus blinked.

Oliver would never say a word about his magic, that he’d hidden away, but just listened with a wistful look on his face whenever Regulus talked about it.

It hit him that Oliver, for the first time, was realizing that magic could be something _good_.  
Something special.

“No,” he said finally, “it didn’t bother me when you didn’t have it… I’m just glad I can tell you about my world,” 

He looked down shyly. 

“... and that you could show me yours.” 

Regulus methodically weaving his fingers through the taller strands of grass.

Oliver shifted closer to him, and Regulus looked up at him, heart quickening at their closeness, the space between them filled with a strange sort of potential energy. 

Oliver’s gaze intensified, and Regulus noticed the little flecks of gold in his eyes, shimmering in the sunlight like stained glass, drawing him in. He reached up tentatively, eyes flicking down to his lips, and hand hesitating on Regulus’s shoulder. 

Regulus’s heart immediately leaped to his throat.

“Are you alright with this?” Oliver whispered, a flicker of nervousness in his gaze.

_Are you alright with this?_

Regulus let out a relieved, breathy laugh at this, anxiousness instantly subsiding, because _of course_ , Oliver would ask. 

In response, Regulus leaned in minutely, and suddenly Oliver’s lips were on his, innocent and featherlight. 

He felt Oliver’s hand on his back, gently pulling him closer with a sigh. Even when they pulled away, his hand lingered there comfortably, and the two stared at each other, breathless and wide-eyed. 

The moment seemed to be suspended in the air. 

Then Regulus quietly tucked an errant curl behind Oliver’s ear, watching as a slow smile worked its way up Oliver’s face, dimples deepening- and any lingering nervousness seemed to melt.

“I’ve- I’ve never done this before,” Oliver admitted softly.  
“Me neither,” Regulus replied.

Even as they took the crowded bus back into the city, there was something in the way they could share a secret glance, Oliver letting his hand brushing over his, just for a moment. 

There was no talk of ‘us’. There was no talk of the future.

But when they were standing near the front gate of the Potter house, Regulus stood on his tip-toes to press a soft kiss to Oliver’s cheek, and Oliver’s arm automatically looped around his waist.

It felt like they had done it a thousand times before.   
Like they didn’t need the words to know that something had fallen into place.

***

The four stood on the busy platform, students of all ages elbowing past, owls fluttering in their enclosures, the smoke from the train- almost ready to depart- and the blur of a runaway cat getting chased by what looked like the first year. He didn’t see anyone he knew, and he was grateful.

“Alright boys,” Euphemia was saying worriedly, “be sure to write to us if you need anything.”   
“Alright, Mum,” James replied, hugging her back distractedly, seeming to crane his neck to look for more of their friends. 

Sirius smoothed his long hair in a show of confidence, but Regulus could see that his hand was tight on the handle of his trunk. Euphemia affectionately straightened his tie, and to his surprise Sirius, rarely one to initiate physical affection with adults, hesitantly pulled her into a hug.

Regulus anxiously turned over the pendant around his neck in his hand, thumb pressing against the crescent moon so hard that it left an indent in his thumb. Oliver had pressed it in his hand on their last day, the day of the full moon, saying that he wanted him to have it. 

A hand fell on his shoulder, and he looked up. Charlus smiled down at him encouragingly. 

_Breathe._

Charlus had explained to him that the case against his parents was being handled as privately as it could be- but he knew that once one family member caught wind of it, the whole House would know. 

_Breathe._

“I’ll see you later,” Regulus said softly, fidgeting, but with a genuine smile at Euphemia and Charlus. 

“Have a good term, dear,” Euphemia said, eyes shining, straightening his collar unnecessarily before the three tromped toward the entrance of the train, Regulus trailing behind James and Sirius. 

“Peter!” James was yelling, waving enthusiastically down the platform. The blonde boy waved back, his toothy smile lighting up as he saw him, trunk bumping along behind him awkwardly as he broke into a jog.

“James, Sirius,” he greeted, but his watery blue eyes skated over Regulus curiously, who tried for a welcoming smile, but wasn’t quite sure if he managed it. He’d never really spoken to Peter, but then again he hadn’t even spoken to James before this summer.

“Um- Hello,” Regulus greeted politely, clumsily shaking Peter’s pudgy hand.   
“Peter, this is my brother R- Remus?” Sirius started to introduce Regulus when someone caught his gaze from over his shoulder. 

Regulus turned around to see Remus Lupin- feeling bad for immediately noticing how incredibly _tired_ he looked. The tall, sandy-haired boy smiled, loping their way with a bit more grace than Peter.

Evidently, Sirius noticed the bags under Remus’s eyes too, because he pulled Remus’s trunk into his grip without a word. Remus and Sirius shared a glance, seeming to battle it out with their eyes before Remus relented crossing his arms. Sirius pulled the trunk behind him triumphantly.

James slung an arm around the taller boy with a grin.

“You almost missed the train, Moony, we’ve got to get our compartment!” James chided, but there was an analytical look in his eyes as he looked at Remus. Remus rolled his eyes.

_Moony?_  
It had to be a coincidence- then again, it was a very strange nickname.

His mind wandered to Oliver, unbidden. He was most likely at home, recovering from the full moon’s trials himself.

“There _are_ other compartments, James,” he pointed out, and the crew started walking toward the entrance, ignoring James’s gripes before turning to Regulus, who started at the sudden attention.

He noticed that Remus had a tiny, faint scar on his eyebrow, and another etched on his pale cheek. 

“You’re Sirius’s little brother, right?” he asked warmly, “I’m Remus.”   
“Right, um- I’m Regulus,” Regulus responded quickly, and Remus smiled, turning back to the group. 

The small group filed into the small hallway of the train, Regulus’s anxiety growing with every step. 

“How have the last couple of months been?” James asked cryptically, and Remus   
shrugged. 

Sirius’s eyes flicked to Regulus, then back to Remus.

“The usual,” Remus said vaguely, “you know how it is,” 

Regulus turned, sensing he was being watched, only to find Peter’s eyes on him. He looked away quickly. 

And suddenly, that old feeling of being on the outside looking in returned. 

Even Sirius- who he felt like he’d made grand leaps with as far as their relationship- seemed to be more distant, keeping a careful eye on Remus and then on Regulus. 

Regulus swallowed hard. 

_Did they just… not trust him?_

He shook the thoughts from his mind.

It was probably nothing.

He couldn’t expect to infringe onto seven years of friendship as if he’d always been there. 

He’d been stupid to expect otherwise.

“I- I should get going!” Regulus said brightly, drawing all four’s attention in an instant.

James started to say something, looking perturbed, but Regulus just gripped onto his trunk handle harder, all of them flattening against the wall of the hallway as a group of loud Slytherins bowled past. 

There was an awkward silence.

“I- I’m meeting another friend,” Regulus lied, glancing at Sirius, who nodded. Just for a second, there was a relieved look on his face- before looking back at Remus. Regulus's heart sank.

_Was it because he’s a Slytherin?_

He pasted a friendly smile on his face, waving at the group, before walking away without another word, walking in the opposite direction with his head down. 

He passed more clumps of Slytherins, some of them averting their eyes as he passed, some of them whispering, and he wondered if that was how Oliver felt every day. 

Like he was being analyzed for his differences. 

In the furthest compartment of the Hogwarts Express, completely alone save his trunk, he braced himself as the train lurched to a start, watching the familiar countryside breeze past with new eyes, and a new outlook. He took a deep breath, savoring the last moment of peace before they arrived.  
It would be a year like no other.


	14. You Know Who

Regulus had never been particularly popular at school. He was perfectly happy skating by in the background, and being a part of what some would consider the “polite acquaintances” crowd where no one paid him any mind.

Regulus figured it was a pretty safe assessment that this way of life was getting thrown out the window as he walked slowly toward the Slytherin table. The students walking around him giving him either a wide berth or broke into a hushed conversation just out of earshot. 

He hesitated, glancing down the table at Bellatrix, in the center in a tight-knit group, before continuing to the furthest end of the table. He wondered, with a deep sense of dread, what she had told them.

He carefully sat down, and the scrawny boy sitting across from him immediately vacated the seat, avoiding his eyes. 

The closest student to him was Severus Snape, who thankfully didn’t move, but was completely immersed in a book, a sheet of hair falling over his eyes. He didn’t even seem to notice Regulus was there- but then again, Regulus wouldn’t be surprised if _he_ was ignoring him too.

He picked up his fork with a steely determination as the food appeared, poking at some of his chicken and forcing an unconcerned expression on his face as the hall came to life with excitable first years. 

He watched across the hall- James and Sirius were laughing at something, Remus leaning over to say something to Peter. 

He looked away quickly, jealousy curling in his chest.

_Breathe._

  
“So,” a familiar voice was saying succinctly, “Black.”

Evan Rosier, a tall, lanky Slytherin that Regulus could vaguely remember studying with last year stood in front of him, regarding him with a cold look. Though his voice was quiet, the Slytherin table immediately quieted, glancing in their direction. 

Even Snape, normally disinterested in the world, seemed to peer over his book at the encounter.   
Regulus slowly put down his fork, meeting his eye. 

“Can I help you?” he asked with forced politeness.   
“Your cousin tells me you’ve been running around with muggles,” he said conversationally, voice just loud enough to catch the ears of those around them, “that you’ve given up your… inheritance.” 

Regulus stared at Evan, wondering what on earth he had done to anger him.   
He’d hardly spoken to the boy in the four years he’d attended Hogwarts. 

Why did he even care?

“So?” he asked sharply.   
At this, the table seemed to erupt in whispers.   
Regulus twitched.

“You know that makes you first on the list,” Rosier said cryptically, and from down the table, Bellatrix’s little group burst into laughter. 

“Excuse me?” Regulus said frostily. Rosier slipped into the seat next to him, a look of faux sympathy on his face. 

Snape was now making no effort to hide the fact that he was listening to the conversation, the book slowly lowering. 

“You could have had all the glory, Black,” Rosier said softly, “you and that brother of yours. It is a shame that he’s going to find you first.” 

“Who?” Regulus asked. He remembered, suddenly, his cousin’s words some weeks ago- 

_You were first in line for the movement._

Rosier leaned forward, and Regulus resisted the urge to cringe away from him.  
“You _know_ who,” Rosier said softly, something strangely… reverent in his gaze.

Regulus digested this for a second, before Rosier promptly stood up, dark eyes narrowed.

“Watch your back,” he said quietly, before walking back to the other side of the table, back to where Bellatrix was sitting. 

Regulus stared down at his chicken, any appetite he had gone. 

Who could be such a threat that he didn’t even have a _name_?   
Who could be so frightening that every Slytherin was defaulting to his family’s insane judgment- either out of fear, or some strange loyalty? 

Whoever it was, something was brewing, and it was far bigger than he had thought. Something that was getting people who had already graduated excited, like Rabastan Lestrange.

He shivered, heart racing again.   
‘First on the list’ didn’t sound promising. 

Mind made up, he stood up, keenly aware that the entire Slytherin table was watching him walk out of the Great Hall. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see some people from other houses watching curiously, including Sirius who was halfway out of his seat, but he ignored it all-- speeding up until he was past the Slytherin portrait and in the blissfully silent, serene common room.

Only then did he let out a sigh of relief, happy to be away from hundreds of prying eyes. 

  
He slipped into his dormitory, intent on hiding in his bed until the next morning when he noticed something strange.

His trunk was opened next to his bed-- his clothes were spilling out of it, along with all of his books scattered on the floor, some of his summer essays fluttering on the ground as he walked by. 

He drew his wand, the silence that had been a haven now seeming cold and menacing. 

He snuck a look over his shoulder before inching toward his bed- half expecting a dead body to be there. Instead, set neatly on the sheet was a tiny envelope, complete with a strange green seal-- one embedded with the design of a snake.

“ _Propulsare_ ,” he intoned quietly, tapping the envelope- it would glow blue if there was something lethal- but nothing happened. 

He shoved his wand into his pocket, opening the envelope with trembling fingers:

In small, neat writing, it read:

_I._  
_Regulus Black, 15_  
_Status:_ _Blood-Traitor_  
_See Item II_

  
He frowned, heart thumping in his chest.   
He checked the envelope to see if there had been something else there-- 

To his surprise, a small, square picture of him and Sirius fell out. Sirius was about 11, a pout on his face, looking as if he’d been forced into ceremonial robes. Regulus, 8 or 9, bobbed his head just in frame with a big smile. 

But what made his heart skip a beat was the X mark on his tiny face in blotted red ink. 

He turned the photo over in his hands, before slipping the note and photo back into the envelope, sliding it under his mattress, and warding his bed with every single protective charm he knew. 

By the time the rest of the Slytherins were making their way from the common room to the dormitories, Regulus was lying down, trunk tucked neatly under his bed, books stacked on his bedside table, and his summer essays back in its original folder. 

When Rosier and Mulciber entered the room, Regulus looked up from his book, even daring to greet them with a tiny, terse nod. Mulciber and Rosier shared a glance but said nothing. Though Regulus put on a relaxed front, he could hear Rosier’s words echoing in the back of his head. 

_It is a shame that he’s going to find you first._

He didn’t sleep a wink that night. 

***

The second day was a blur, especially with no sleep. 

His classes were dull, and he barely paid attention- especially with the awareness that the entire Slytherin House was watching him. Even McGonagall seemed to send him a worried glance, but he just put his head down, scribbling at his assignments half-heartedly. 

He would have been fine with the contents of the letter if it hadn’t been so… vague. 

What did it mean?  
Was it a threat… or was it a warning?

A burly Slytherin upperclassman shouldered past him, knocking his books out of his hands in the crowded hallway. 

“Hey-” he yelped, but the boy was already gone.

Before he could gather them from the ground they were soaring back into his hands in a neat pile. He looked up to see Snape, wand still drawn. 

He too looked like he hadn’t gotten much sleep, looking pale and almost ill. 

“Thank you,” he said softly, but Snape was already walking past him with a nod. Regulus watched as he disappeared into the crowd. 

“Regulus,” a quiet voice whispered from behind a statue.   
Regulus whirled around, only to find Narcissa, eyes sharp, glancing nervously around. Her hair was pulled back into a neat plait, and her knuckles were white on the strap of her bag.

“A word,” she said, voice barely above a whisper, “in private.”   
Regulus glanced around, mouth dry. Narcissa had always been his favorite cousin-- not that that meant much, but she was quiet, like him.

He couldn’t picture her trying to attack him.

“Alright,” he said stiffly, and the two slipped into an empty classroom, the door snapping shut behind him.   
“You need to be more careful,” she said anxiously, “they’re watching you.”

Regulus raised an eyebrow.

“I’ve realized that,” he said dryly.

“No,” Narcissa hissed, stepping closer to him, “you don’t realize it.”

“It’s… ‘him’… isn’t it,” Regulus asked apprehensively.

"He calls himself Voldemort,” Narcissa breathed, eyes wide, “he wants to- to _purify_ all wizards.” 

Regulus couldn’t help but snort at the strange name and the ridiculous goal that the man had.   
So... it was some strange belief system. Surely it couldn’t have that large of a following.

“He calls himself what?” he asked in amusement, but Narcissa’s hands were balled up into fists.

“This isn’t a _game_ , Regulus,” she said firmly, “it’s starting now, everything that our family stands for is coming to life.”

“It is a game though, for you,” he argued defensively, “if he’s so… extreme… then why are you hanging around them? Is it some sort of political thing?”

Narcissa’s mouth was twisted.

“It’s not that easy, Regulus,” she said quietly, “he’s _powerful_. He has eyes everywhere. Just--”

She took a deep breath, looking like she was holding herself back from saying more.

“He’s not going to kill me, is he?” Regulus said sarcastically. He didn’t consider it a good sign when Narcissa looked even grimmer.

“Just pay attention to what’s happening, alright?” she said quickly, biting her lip.

“Hang on, was it you-” Regulus started to ask about the note on his bed, but Narcissa had already slipped out the door leaving Regulus standing alone amongst the desks. 

***

By the third day, he was reaching his wit's end. The whole house seemed to be waiting for something to happen. 

Watching him go to sleep.   
Watching him wake up.   
Watching him get dressed.  
Watching him eat. 

It made Regulus want to tear his hair out. 

So instead of going to another awkward dinner, he made his way down the kitchens.   
House-elves certainly made much better company. 

After he reassured the House Elves that ‘no, he didn’t need a full course meal,’ and ‘yes, a cup of tea would be lovely,’, Regulus for the first time felt like he wasn’t being analyzed. Picked apart. Threatened.

He sighed into his cup of tea, pulling out a piece of paper and for the first time since arriving, drafting a quick letter to Oliver. 

  
_Dear Oliver,_  
_I made it to school! I’m already looking forward to winter break. I’d love to spend another day together._

_Everyone in my house is being a bit odd about me, though that might just be because all of my family (except for Sirius) are in Slytherin (did I explain Houses to you? I’m in Slytherin, the house of the ambitious, and Sirius is in Gryffindor, house of the brave). So it was bound to be a bit awkward._

_Anyway, it doesn’t matter. All I can say is that I wish that Hogwarts had 'electrovosity' (don’t make fun of me if I got the words wrong!) so I could play some of your music here. It’s quieter than I remember here, and I-_

  
“Regulus,” 

  
Regulus dropped his quill, upturning his ink in the process, and drew his wand, ready to face whatever culprit was about to attack him or warn him or kill him-

-only to find Sirius, standing right behind him looking confused.

“Merlin- Sirius, don’t scare me like that!” he snapped, annoyed, and breathing harder than he should be. 

“Sorry,” Sirius said, raising an eyebrow.

“What are you doing here?” he asked accusingly, cleaning up the ink with the swish of his wand.

“Am I not allowed to check up on my little brother?” Sirius asked lightly.

Another day, Regulus would have melted at this show of brotherly affection. 

Today was not that day.

He turned around and looked at the cup of tea he’d barely touched. 

The universe couldn’t even let him have _that_ without something happening.

“I’m fine,” Regulus said tightly, rubbing the bridge of his nose.  
“Really?” Sirius said, with a scrutinizing look, “because you don’t seem fine.”

For some inexplicable reason, this pissed him off more than the threats, more than the whispers, and more than the stares. Because these past few days, his brother probably felt freer from the Black family than he had ever felt in his life, surrounded by friends- not to mention the fact that he was in his last year.

He wouldn’t have to deal with any of it.   
He’d _never_ have to deal with any of it.

He turned around slowly, looking Sirius in the eye. 

“Just go,” Regulus ordered agitatedly.   
“Reg, talk to me,” Sirius said, crossing his arms.

Regulus cut him off with a short, humorless laugh.

“Oh, because you always talked to me, didn’t you,” he said darkly, words falling from his lips before he could stop them, “for all four years I’ve been at Hogwarts.” 

Sirius flinched, hurt flashing on his face.

It was true- they never had talked to each other at school before this. 

In fact, they'd practically avoided being seen with one another, especially Sirius.

There was a horrible, tense silence.

But the words that were supposed to scare Sirius away didn’t work.

“I want that to change,” Sirius stated, with a sort of tortured honesty that Regulus couldn’t push away, “I’m not going anywhere until you tell me what’s up.”

This took the wind out of Regulus’s sails in an instant.   
He sat down silently.   
After a moment, Sirius slowly sat down too.

“Tell me,” he repeated quietly. 

“They found out that I’ve been ‘running around with a muggle’,” Regulus explained unenthusiastically, “and apparently, Bella’s set the whole house against me, and- and they’ve been… strange.”

Sirius was silent, eyes dark and angry. 

“I just need a- a break.” Regulus explained, voice trembling, “I don't know, it’s just-”  
“They’re always watching you.” Sirius finished. Regulus turned to his brother- maybe he understood after all.

“It’s fine,” Regulus said, shrugging.   
“It’s not fine,” Sirius interjected hotly.

Regulus glanced at Sirius. He had his elbows on the table, his red tie loose and his hair all flopped to one side. He awkwardly looked down at his hands.

“I know it’s harder, for you,” Sirius said, with a tinge of guilt.

“It’s what it is,” Regulus replied, sipping on his tea.

The air seemed to clear between them like it always did- but Regulus couldn't help but wonder if he was destined to butt heads with Sirius.

Sirius glanced down at the table, at the letter, picking it up absentmindedly.

“Figures you’d be doing homework,” he said rolling his eyes. Regulus jumped, suddenly remembering the letter he’d been writing.

“No that’s-” Regulus yelped, voice an octave higher than usual. 

“A letter,” Sirius said in surprise. 

Regulus opened his mouth, mind going completely blank.  
He realized he hadn’t told Sirius about him and Oliver at all. 

“Yes,” Regulus admitted, wringing his hands, “Sirius-”

“I’m glad you two are such good friends,” Sirius said, folding the letter in two with a smile. Regulus took it back, setting it back on the table.

Regulus instinctively reached up to Oliver's pendant around his neck, flipping it over in his hand anxiously. He hadn’t taken it off, not once. 

“You remember the Queen album he gave me?” Regulus asked hesitantly.

Sirius grinned.

“Are you kidding? Of course I remember,” he said, snorting, “you had it on repeat that whole bloody week.” 

“You and James,” he continued, blushing, “you told me it was because he... liked me?” 

Sirius nodded slowly, raising an eyebrow.   
Regulus looked down shyly. 

“Well I suppose… what I’m trying to say is…” Regulus started awkwardly, staring at a point above Sirius’s shoulder, “I liked him too, that first day, and we’re sort of _together_ now.” 

Regulus chanced a look at Sirius, whose mouth was open, understanding clicking in expression before he broke into a huge smile. 

“No wonder you two were sneaking off so often,” Sirius said, ruffling Regulus’s hair, “I thought you were just sick of me and James.” 

Regulus let out a relieved breath. He hadn’t realized he’d been nervous to tell Sirius until the moment it happened.

“You- you don’t mind?” he said, heart swelling.

“I don’t,” Sirius said instantly, Regulus was surprised at the earnestness of his voice, “I’m happy for you.” 

He squeezed Regulus’s arm with a reassuring grin, before looking at the sad cup of tea on the table.

“Now, tea isn’t dinner, let’s get you an actual plate of food,” Sirius said reprovingly, before glancing around in search of a house-elf.

"You're starting to sound like James," Regulus said dryly, thinking of the messy haired boy's obsession with making sure they were eating enough.

As Sirius ordered a full plate of all of Regulus’s favorite foods from a group of excitable house elves, Regulus let everything else slip from his mind.

Cryptic notes, family feuds, and a strange man called 'Voldemort' could wait.

  
Tonight was just for him and his brother.


	15. Unhinged

_Dear Regulus,_

_I had to explain to my brother why a tame owl was in the apartment hanging out on my shoulder with an envelope in his beak- I don’t think he believed me when I said it was a pet. Anyway, I just have to ask-_

_Are all wizards so dramatic about everything different than them?_

_I don’t think I’ll ever understand that- even in that school of yours._

_Separating people by personality traits does seem a bit overkill, in my opinion. Besides, if you’re only hanging out with people like you, you’re not learning anything about anyone else. But that could just be me reading too much into things._

_Also, Hogwarts doesn’t have electricity? Or music? Or movies?_

_I definitely would lose my mind in the first week- I live right above an apartment that’s a jazz band, and I think it would be weirder if it were silent. Music makes everything better, and so do people from different backgrounds._

_(perhaps I am a little biased)_

_What’s happening in my neck of the woods?_

_Nothing too interesting, unfortunately._

_Life is dull without you around._

_Love,_

_Oliver_

Regulus smiled, folding up the letter and tucking it into his pocket as he joined the crowd of students walking to the Great Hall, a new spring in his step. The strange looks he’d been getting were just starting to fade, as people started getting mountains of homework from teachers.

Perhaps the novelty of his leaving wouldn’t be such a big deal anymore.

“Have you read The Prophet this morning?” a silky voice came from behind.

Snape materialized beside him, a strange sort of intensity in his voice. Regulus paused apprehensively, glancing around at the students streaming around them. 

Snape didn’t budge or seem concerned that people were staring at them.

“I haven’t,” Regulus said awkwardly. It was rather out of the blue- he and Snape had never been friends, but they’d never been enemies either, the way he and Sirius were. Snape dug out something from his bag, uncrumpling the paper and handing it to Regulus who gave the headline a cursory scan.

“Minister Leach to Impose new Restrictions on Muggle/Wizard Interaction,” he read the featured headline aloud, but Snape shook his head, stepping closer to him and carefully turning a couple of pages.

“Page three, bottom left,” he said quietly, “gossip column.” 

Regulus looked down at the smaller, bolded title with a sharp intake of breath.

“What the fuck is this?” he hissed.

**Former Black Heirs Consort with Dangerous Creatures?**

By Rita Skeeter

_Daily Prophet Intern_

It may come as a surprise to some readers that the infamous Black family, headed by highly regarded ministry official Orion Black, has disowned not one, but two of his sons this summer- and the Ministry is keeping suspiciously quiet about why. One must ask- why did two of our young, spirited, pureblood boys leave the home of a historically upstanding, wealthy family like the Blacks- one who values family above all else? 

Sirius Black, the former heir to the Black fortune, has made it no secret that he is no fan of the Blacks.

However, in interviewing Ministry Official Orion Black, I was surprised to learn that it is 15-year-old Regulus Black who seems to be in close contact on several occasions with an undisclosed, registered werewolf. One who, according to its file, has attempted to attack people in the past. 

Black was unclear in disclosing if Regulus Black’s actions are influenced by his alleged “strong-willed” brother, Sirius Black, but did provide us with this quote:

“It’s clear that my older son is unhinged. Somewhat recently, he had an incident with a dangerous magical creature- one that put other people’s lives at risk.” 

Of what incident, he wouldn’t elaborate for the sake of privacy laws, but readers, it’s got me (and the Prophet staff) intrigued. Black concluded his interview with a heartfelt assurance that he “just wants what’s best” for his boys, even if they’ve “strayed from the right path.” 

As Ministry Official Black said earlier in the interview, he “worries that children like Regulus are being brainwashed into doing things they may not want to do.” Pureblood or not, I think we all can agree that we should be keeping radical views and creatures classified as ‘dangerous’ away from impressionable children. 

_See ‘5 Ways to Spot a Werewolf’ on page 5._

He glanced up at Snape, who was watching him read it with an uncharacteristic look of concern on his face. 

“It’s just a gossip column, but…” he said, shrugging, but they both knew that the Slytherins (and probably a lot of students from other houses) would gobble this story up.

“Why- why did you show me this?” he asked, hating how small he felt. 

“Is it a rumor?” Snape asked quietly, “or… did Bl- _Sirius_ try something with you too?” 

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Regulus snapped, the letter from Oliver feeling heavy in his pocket, “it’s a pack of lies, is all.”

Snape hesitated, not looking like he believed him in the slightest.

“Keep it,” he said, seeming to teeter to some decision, before walking away, glancing curiously over his shoulder as he walked. 

Regulus stood completely still, almost shaking with anger at the ludicrous article. 

The audacity of his father to call Sirius ‘unhinged’, to frame Oliver as nothing but a criminal and him as a troubled, impressionable child- and to paint the Black family as “ _just wanting the best for their boys_ ”-- it was cruel.

He did have to wonder though, about the mysterious ‘incident’ that Sirius was involved in-

And why on earth Snape, of all people, had asked him if Sirius had “tried something with him too?”

… like there was there some something else concealed in the half-truths that intern Skeeter had written. 

***

“...Regulus?” 

Regulus had been steadily been growing more frustrated with the slew of people that were just starting to read the article- not only from Slytherin but from other houses as well. Most aggravating included Evan Rosier, who had been bothering him about the article and peppering with seemingly innocent questions about his "shaky mental state". 

It felt stupid, having to hide from people just to get a little peace. 

“For the love of Merlin- _what now?_ ” Regulus said loudly, throwing down his book in his exasperation, and causing Madam Pince to poke her head out from a bookshelf to give him a reproving look. 

Instead, he saw Remus Lupin, who flinched back at his words. 

“Sorry,” Regulus sighed guiltily, getting a closer look at Remus, “you just caught me by surprise, is all.”

Remus, surprisingly, probably looked as twitchy and terrible as Regulus felt, looking around the empty library with an agitated look on his face.

“Can I sit here?” Remus asked finally, and Regulus shrugged noncommittally, watching as he set his bag on the table. He fidgeted with his sweater sleeve, seeming to stew on something before speaking. 

“I know that… that you _know_ , somehow,” Remus said, looking straight ahead, “... and I’m sorry to drag you into this whole thing,”

When Regulus just stared at him blankly, Remus continued, voice strangled with pent-up anxiety.

“I don’t know what they mean about a criminal record, but I’m assuming they’re talking about last year-” he started, vigorously rubbing his eyes, “I don’t know how you were involved, and I just wanted to clear things up. You know, since it doesn’t seem like you wanted to be… involved.” 

Remus looked so deeply ashamed, finally looking Regulus in the eyes. Regulus took a deep breath.

“You know him too?” he asked, very confused, “Oliver?” 

It was Remus’s turn to look confused.

“Oliver?” 

Regulus shut his mouth with a click, feeling like slapping himself for revealing his name. 

“I’m sorry,” Regulus said genuinely, redirecting the conversation, “I- I don’t think I know what you’re talking about. What happened last year?” 

“I thought Sirius told you about it. That’s the only reason they’d try and drag you into it.” Remus said in a hushed voice, flushing. Regulus squinted at him, wondering what on earth he could be talking about when it hit him like a ton of bricks: 

  1. The article was about werewolves
  2. Remus's nickname was 'Moony'
  3. He had mysterious scars
  4. He'd seemed ill around the full moon



He was an idiot.

“You’re a werewolf!” he breathed, just loud enough for Remus to hear.

“You- you _didn’t_ know?” Remus said, horror mounting in his expression. 

“It’s fine,” Regulus whispered quickly, glancing around, “Part of that the article was talking about someone else, that’s why…” 

“You know about someone else?” Remus asked weakly, looking like he was narrowly avoiding having a heart attack. 

Regulus stood up, motioning at Remus to follow.

“Let’s take this conversation somewhere more private,” he said quietly, not wanting to be responsible for another breach of privacy. 

It seemed Narcissa was right- _He_ certainly had eyes everywhere. 

***

They settled for the Quidditch pitch, settling on the empty bleachers after checking that there were no unwelcome ears under them. 

Remus told him, with a fond smile, how Sirius, James, and Peter all had become animagus’s to help his transformations be less painful- such a deep, genuine display of friendship, that Regulus couldn’t even summon the energy to be jealous about it.

Regulus told Remus everything he could about Oliver- how he had grown up as a muggle, how he was denied access to Hogwarts, how he’d never learned magic. There was a certain warmness about Remus as he listened, and Regulus instantly felt comfortable talking to him.

“So you’ve… you were friends with him? Before you knew he was... ?” Remus asked, looking shocked at the story Regulus spun. 

Regulus nodded, smiling softly. 

“I just want him to be safe,” Regulus confided honestly, “he’s- he’s the sweetest person. That article made him out to be some sort of criminal and that couldn’t be further from the truth.” 

The two sat in contemplative silence, Regulus thinking of Oliver and his bright smile, kaleidoscope eyes, and genuinely kind heart. 

He deserved better.

“Don't take this the wrong way, but I never thought I would ever have this conversation with a Slytherin,” Remus said smiling, with a sidelong glance at Regulus. 

Regulus laughed, unoffended. To be honest, this whole year had been a strange series of events in his own mind.

“I’m just surprised,” he said honestly, “I’d assumed since Oliver wasn’t allowed to come, that all werewolves were barred from Hogwarts. Which is wrong, obviously.”

Remus bit his lip, looking down at his shoes.

“I’m the first werewolf they ever let in,” he explained, “I… come from a wizarding family, and was bitten when I was very young. Dumbledore stepped in before the Ministry could, and I’m allowed as long as I keep quiet about it. I’ve never really interacted with other werewolves.” 

Regulus looked up at the foggy sky, heart twisting-- no wonder Remus was so curious about Oliver. It seemed like the system was all too good at making sure if you were a werewolf, you are destined to be either alone, or separate from your community. 

All to alienate anything different. 

“Fuck the Ministry,” he said vindictively, and Remus snorted appreciatively.

“Indeed,” Remus muttered. 

“As far as what happened last year,” he prodded gently, “you never explained-” 

“I think Sirius should be part of that conversation,” Remus said, with a weird look on his face, “if you want to know.” 

Regulus simply nodded, just feeling relieved that he could confide in someone who understood that Oliver wasn’t some monster. 

Someone who understood what it was like better than he ever could.

“You won’t tell anyone, will you?” Remus asked quietly, with a flicker of doubt in his quiet voice. 

Regulus couldn't blame him, after that article.

“You have my word,” Regulus said earnestly. 

***

That night, as Regulus was making his way back from another quiet dinner with the house-elves (who were quickly becoming attached to the boy, greeting him enthusiastically by name), he wandered through the dark halls, a small smile on his face despite the unwelcome situation. 

So James, Sirius, and Peter _were_ alright with werewolves. 

They were just keeping quiet about it to avoid suspicion toward Remus.

Regulus couldn’t wait to bug Sirius about not telling him he was an animagus. 

He slowed his walk, something comforting and peaceful about the quiet night, as the moonlight streamed through an open window. 

“ _Silencio_ ,” a low, unfamiliar voice whispered from behind him, and any sort of verbal reaction he might have had seemed to die in his throat. 

He tried to turn around, leaping into action, but out of nowhere, his arm was wrenched back in an iron grip. Regulus abandoned the idea of trying to grab his wand, cursing the fact that he was so bad at nonverbal casting. 

He only caught a glimpse of what seemed to be a Slytherin tie before-

“ _Oblito_ ,” the same voice snarled, and his world was plunged into darkness. 

Regulus could hear his breath, coming out sharp and short, and feel his vocal cords trying and failing to yell. 

He was trapped.

“Fucking half-breed lover,” a more gravelly voice growled, putting a sweaty arm over his neck from behind him. 

_Two of them_ , Regulus thought frantically, desperately kicking at somebody’s shins, trying to force his skinny arms out of their grip to no avail. 

“You want to play this game the muggle way? We’ll do it the _muggle_ way.” 

Regulus wheezed as some large force hit his stomach, and he immediately curled up as the blows pelted down on him with what seemed to be rapid fire punches. 

_Don’tcrydon’tcrydon’tcry_

The lower voice snickered from behind him, still holding tightly onto him while his accomplice mercilessly unleashed his rage. 

“It’s different when they’re quiet,” the gravelly voice commented amusedly. The other voice shushed him quickly, and suddenly they were moving down the hall, Regulus doubled over in pain. 

Where were the prefects that always seemed to be lingering in the halls, waiting to take points?

Where were the teachers, hearing a commotion?

He never thought the day would come when he’d hope that even Filch was skulking about. 

“You brought this on yourself, Black,” one of them was saying, as Regulus desperately tried to mentally navigate where they were taking him, ears pricked for any footsteps, “you’re just the same as those mudblood _rats_ now.” 

_Left. Right. Left. No… was it right?_

Then, taking him completely by surprise, he was being shoved somewhere, and a door was being banged shut. Their footsteps were fading away already. 

Regulus immediately launched toward the door, slamming against it, hearing the dreaded sound of a lock impeding his exit.

_No. No. No. This couldn’t be happening._

He tried to stand up, hitting his head on the top of the small enclosure, his fist painfully catching the wall as he turned, and he curled into himself with a frustrated scream that nobody else could hear, panicked sobs spiraling out of his control. 

After a long while, he slowly reached out with each arm, measuring the room, and flinching as he touched a long, slender piece of wood, tendrils on top of it brushing against his face.

A mop.

They’d locked him in a bloody broom closet.

He waited, holding his throbbing stomach for what seemed to be a hours until he heard the quiet tap of footsteps outside the door. They slowed next to the cupboard.

“Hello?” a girl’s voice was saying reprovingly, “you know you’re not supposed to be in there, so just open up.”

 _I can’t_ , Regulus wanted to yell, _I can’t!_

Swallowing his pride, he knocked furiously on the door, hoping that the person would somehow get the message. 

“Alright, alright,” the voice said clearly, “alohomora.” 

Regulus could have cried in relief as he tumbled unceremoniously out of the cupboard and onto the carpeted ground, panting. 

“ _Black?_ ” the voice yelped, small hands gripping his shoulder, and he winced, “christ- are you alright? Can you talk? Did somebody jinx you? Hang on-”

The touch and the rapid-fire questions disappeared briefly, and Regulus was almost afraid that the person had just left.

“Finite incantatem.” whoever it was said, and in an instant Regulus could see again, the glow of the torches in the hallway jarring after being in complete darkness for who knows how long. He blinked the stars out of his vision, swiping his wand out of his pocket with trembling fingers.

“ _Christ_ ,” the voice repeated, “what the _hell_ happened to you?”

Regulus jerked toward the voice, taking in the Gryffindor girl- bright red hair just meeting her shoulders, concern emanating from vibrant green eyes, one hand gripped firmly on her wand and the other on his shoulder.

Regulus had never been more glad to see Lily Evans in his life.


	16. Friends and Brothers

Regulus sat up slowly, shakily putting his head between his knees. 

Not being able to see or speak whilst being trapped in a tiny cupboard was undoubtedly the _worst_ feeling he’d ever experienced- worse than any curse because at least he’d known that it would end in a few minutes. 

Being in there felt… endless.

Not to mention the fact that he’d never been fond of being stuck in small spaces. 

Lily was crouching next to him, a light hand on his back.

“Do I need to get a professor?” 

Regulus shook his head mutely, wiping his wet face. 

Lily frowned, fingertips gently prodding his ribs. Regulus flinched back, with a beseeching look, and she winced sympathetically.

“Sorry, just checking if anything's broken,” she explained quietly, eyebrows furrowed, “can you breathe alright?” 

Regulus nodded, and Lily looked a bit relieved, tucking a strand of red hair behind her ear. 

“You know,” she told him grimly, “if it was someone from my house who attacked you, you can tell me. I will _make sure_ they get detention.” 

There was something fiery in her face when she spoke, and Regulus could sense that she was being completely serious. Regulus could understand where she was coming from- it wasn’t unheard of for Slytherins to occasionally get teased, or bullied by the occasional boisterous Gryffindor. 

“It was a Slytherin,” he whispered tiredly.

He could hear Lily shifting in surprise.

He looked down, face burning.

Lily offered him a hand, mouth pressed in a thin line. 

He took it, stomach twinging painfully. 

“Assholes,” Lily muttered venomously, causing Regulus to look at the girl in surprise, “c’mon Black, let’s get you to the hospital wing.”

Regulus leaned against the wall with a lump in his throat. Madame Pomfrey would surely heal him in seconds, and then he’d have to go back to the Slytherin dorms, where his two attackers lived, _again_ , walk through the dark halls _again_ , and face everyone _again_ -

“I’ll be alright,” he lied thinly, wondering if he could hide behind a statue or something until morning, “I’ll just… go…”

Lily put her hand on her hips, with a stern look that reminded him of McGonagall- but before she could say anything, a familiar face was rounding the corner.

“Lily! You must be finishing your rounds…too...” Remus paused, noticing first the murderous expression on Lily’s face, and then Regulus, standing shakily next to the wall. 

Remus let in a sharp intake of breath. 

“Black here got ambushed by some Slytherins,” Lily cut in succinctly before Remus could pelt him with questions, “and he doesn’t want to go to the hospital wing.”

Remus swallowed, crouching down slightly and meeting Regulus's eyes. Regulus looked down, very conscious that he probably looked like he’d just been crying, hating that he probably looked pathetic. 

“Hey,” he said, as if reading his mind, “I know a thing or two about healing, and... if you don’t want to go back to your dorms you can stay in ours.” 

Regulus’s head snapped up. 

“What?” he and Lily asked in unison.

“No one will be awake anyway,” Remus argued, directing his words toward a doubtful Lily, “I can sneak him in there, just for the night, and heal him no problem.” 

“Remus, I don’t know if we’re allowed-” Lily started, glancing worriedly at Regulus.

“It’s Sirius’s brother,” Remus interjected, with a pleading look in her direction. 

Lily sighed, softening slightly, and Remus put a gentle hand on Regulus’s shoulder.

“Trust me,” he said softly, “finish your rounds, I’ll take care of it.” 

Lily nodded, gaze lingering on the two before she continued down the hall.

Remus wordlessly slung an arm around his shoulders, and the two slowly made their way up the stairs, and up, further and further toward the Gryffindor tower. Remus whispered something to the Fat Lady, who glanced at his Slytherin tie suspiciously- he must have looked pretty pitiful though, because her portrait swung open without a word. 

Just as Remus predicted, the common room was abandoned- it was cozier looking than the Slytherin one, with a fire flickering merrily in the fireplace and plush couches lining the walls. 

They crept toward the stairs, presumably toward the boy’s dormitory, but before they could go up, Regulus paused. 

“D'you- do you think they’ll be asleep?” Regulus whispered.

“Probably,” Remus said honestly, blinking at him, “it’s pretty quiet.” 

“I just- don’t want to worry him,” Regulus explained softly, thinking of Sirius.

“It’s alright,” Remus said quietly, “if they’re awake, I’ll make sure they won’t make a big deal.” 

Anxiety quenched temporarily, they crept into the dormitory- Regulus briefly taking in the messy menagerie of Quidditch memorabilia and books and messy-haired figure in one of the beds, before Remus led him to the adjacent bathroom. 

He shut the door quietly, muttering a quick charm under his breath.

Both of them sighed. 

“We can talk normally now,” Remus reassured him, “they won’t hear us.” 

“Thanks,” Regulus said, watching as Remus carefully opened a shelf, listening to the clink of vials as he searched for the right one, “you’re… very good at this.” 

“I spent a few years sneaking around these three; I had to be,” Remus replied simply, before pulling out a small, clear container of green paste, “aha! Here we are.”

Regulus unbuttoned his shirt, Remus assessing his angry, throbbing bruises with professionalism that Regulus didn’t expect for someone his age, carefully dabbing the balm onto the skin. But, then again, he supposed he’d have to be rather numb to cuts and bruises, especially since he was a werewolf.

The balm caused his skin to tingle before the bruises faded almost out of sight only leaving a slight shadow. Remus patiently dabbed at each injury, Regulus strangely comfortable in his presence. 

“I know I’m just Sirius’s little brother,” Regulus said quietly, “but thank you, really,”

Remus stopped dabbing, setting down the vial on the counter. 

“Only Dumbledore, my parents, those three, and now _you_ know about me... and accept me,” he admitted, crouching in front of him.

Regulus processed this bit of information, wide-eyed. 

“Not everyone will be on your side,” Remus continued firmly, “and the people who _are_ are the ones that matter. At least to me.” 

Regulus reeled at the gravity of that statement, opening his mouth to reassure Remus that he didn't have to feel _indebted_ for Regulus's acceptance, but Remus just smiled.

“If you want to deal with things like this yourself, I get it, I do,” he said seriously, “I was like that too- still am, sometimes. But you’ve got us now too, alright?” 

He dipped his fingers in the balm again, lifting Regulus’s chin with one hand and dabbing his cheek with the other. Regulus suddenly thought of Euphemia, who had said something similar all those weeks ago-

_“You two are blessings to us...and we want to be here for you no matter what.”_

“Also, it’s nice to talk to someone sane once and awhile,” Remus joked as he worked, “you’d be amazed what I put up with, with those three maniacs.”

Regulus stifled a laugh. He could only imagine. 

Out of nowhere, the door creaked open, and Regulus and Remus froze- James stood half-asleep in the doorway in red snitch-patterned pajamas, with no glasses and hair spiked up in the back. He paused in surprise at the sight of the two.

Remus sighed long-sufferingly. 

“Prongs, people generally don’t _break into the bathroom_ when it’s locked,” he said, half-amused and half-exasperated.

“I thought it was empty,” James said defensively, with no logic whatsoever. James then blinked confusedly at Regulus, who nodded awkwardly at him, arms crossed self-consciously. 

“You really can’t see a damn thing without your glasses,” Remus muttered, “I’m just helping him out with some injuries.” 

He shot Regulus an apologetic look. 

James’s demeanor immediately changed. 

“Injuries?” he exclaimed, rushing over to Regulus, “who the hell-”

“James,” Remus cut in carefully, “I took care of it. We’ll talk about it in the morning, alright?” 

They all paused, thinking about Sirius’s eventual reaction- Sirius was the King of making things a Big Deal. 

“Right,” James said more quietly, looking like he was holding back a million questions, ‘who should I kill’ being one of them, but he just kept quiet, patting Regulus on the shoulder, brown eyes warm and worried.

“My bed’s the nearest one,” James said instantly, “go get some rest, alright Reg?” 

Regulus nodded hesitantly, grabbing his shirt and slinging it over his shoulders. 

He looked at Remus instinctively, who just gave him a look that seemed to say ‘go on,’ before he crept out of the bathroom, and awkwardly sliding under James’s covers, listening to Peter’s snuffling snores and Sirius’s familiar breaths with bated breaths.

After a few minutes, James slid into bed too, drawing the curtains and flopping onto his pillow with a sigh.

“Sorry,” Regulus muttered awkwardly, scooting toward the furthest side, but James just waved a hand at him.

“Used to do this with Sirius too,” James whispered, closing his eyes, “he used to get nightmares all the time.” 

“Oh,” Regulus murmured, surprised. 

He tried to imagine brave, loud Sirius running to James when he had a nightmare. James smiled sleepily, not seeming bothered at all. Though unexpected, it was rather endearing, seeing the softer side of cool-Quidditch-star-James. 

“G’night,” James yawned quietly, flopping over. 

“Night,” Regulus whispered back, but James was already out like a light.

***

“Oi, wake up sleepyhead, It’s another _beautiful_ Wednesday!” someone was shouting sarcastically.

Regulus creaked his eyes open, briefly wondering if Rosier or Mulciber had lost their minds. He stared blankly at the unfamiliar, red bed curtains for a moment, touching the collar of his half-buttoned uniform shirt, when the night came flooding back. 

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” James mumbled, rolling over and pulling his arm around Regulus like he was a pillow. Regulus froze, creaking his neck to look incredulously at James who was fast asleep again, snoring. 

He cleared his throat loudly, trying to awkwardly extract himself from James’s arm.

“Don’t tell me he’s gone back to sleep,” Sirius was saying, his voice drifting from across the room. 

“Again?” Peter said amusedly, sounding closer, "this is becoming a habit."

“Alright Jamesie, you asked for it,” Sirius was calling out, footsteps nearing. 

“Sirius, wait-” Remus’s voice chimed in warningly from the other side, but the curtains were already flying open dramatically. 

“Good morning _sunshine_ -”

Regulus blinked at the sudden light, and at Sirius, who was already fully dressed, except for his tie. He stared down at the two, gaping.

“What are _you_ doing here?” he exclaimed in surprise. James opened his eyes again, disoriented, looking first at Sirius, down at Regulus. He hastily pulled his arm away, looking like a deer caught in headlights. 

Regulus and James looked at each other again, mortified, before promptly rolling away from each other to opposite sides of the bed. 

“Before you start,” James explained, picking up his glasses and shoving them on his face quickly, “there is a perfectly logical explanation.”

Regulus sat up and quickly buttoned his shirt up, ignoring Sirius’s slowly raising eyebrows. 

“Pads, it’s fine, Regulus’s just there because he needed a place to sleep for the night-” Remus started to explain, poking his head into view. Peter peered over at him curiously, in the process of tying his tie. 

“...Right,” Sirius said in justified confusion, putting a hand on his hip, “… and these two just randomly felt like cuddling.” 

“Sirius,” James said, rolling his eyes.

Sirius raised his eyebrow, glancing at Regulus.

“ _Sirius_ ,” Regulus snapped, covering his face with his hands.

“C’mon Pete,” Remus said quickly, picking up on Regulus’s reluctance in a second, “let’s go to class.” 

The door of the dormitory swung shut with a slam, their footsteps fading. James hesitated for a moment before following their lead, pulling his uniform out of a messy drawer and exiting the room, with one lingering glance toward the two. 

The dorm was silent again. 

“Not going to lie to you, Reg,” Sirius remarked bluntly, “I'm a little confused.”

Regulus shook his head, letting out a tiny, nervous laugh, before patting the bed next to him. 

“Um- yeah. Um...”

Regulus dug his fingers into the sheets. 

“Well,” Regulus said conversationally, hoping to soften the blow, “I was walking back to my dorm last night, and some Slytherins sort of… attacked me?” 

Sirius's stance immediately stiffened.

“What do you mean they _attacked_ you?” 

Regulus swallowed, staring fixedly at the bedpost instead of Sirius’s face before the story came spilling out- the strange looks he’d gotten after the article was released, how he’d been walking alone and hadn’t seen the two coming, being locked in a cupboard, how he still didn’t know who the culprits were- except for that they were in the same house- so he hadn’t want to go back to the dorm.

“You could’ve woken me,” Sirius said quietly, sounding a bit hurt.

“I know,” Regulus said quickly, “I wasn’t even planning on James finding us anyway, I just- he was just being nice… I didn’t want to bother anyone else, and Remus healed me already anyway. It’s really not a big deal.” 

Sirius crossed his arms, looking like he thought it was very much a big deal. 

“The deal is I’m going to fucking kill them,” he said flatly, the air around him seeming to crackle with anger. 

“ _No,_ ” Regulus exclaimed loudly, “that's exactly what they want. They want that article to be true- they want us to be... unstable. Besides, I didn’t even see who they were.” 

Sirius’s shoulders slumped at that.

“You’ve been getting shit for that stupid article too?” Sirius groaned. He flopped onto the bed, staring at the red curtain above him. Regulus didn’t respond, which seemed to be an answer enough, because Sirius pushed him lightly on the shoulder. 

“You know what? Forget class,” he said suddenly, “we’re going flying.” 

***

Regulus had never skipped class in his four years of Hogwarts.

He wondered what on earth he'd been waiting for...

The two looped around the Quidditch Pitch before weaving through the trees in the Forbidden Forest, Regulus relishing at the feeling of the cool wind on his face, the freedom of skillfully weaving through leafy branches while Sirius was gliding just above the trees. 

After a while the two circled back slowly, running back to the Quidditch Pitch, and keeping an eye out for teachers. They settled under the bleachers, setting their brooms to the side, Sirius charming a tiny, floating blue flame to warm them up.

“You have really good friends,” Regulus said quietly, pulling one of Sirius’s scarves around his neck more tightly, “Remus was nice about it all.”

Sirius smiled, eyes softer than usual. He looked down at the flame, holding his hand over it, methodically brushing his fingertips through the edges. 

“Yeah,” he said, “That’s just him. He’s always been like that, he’s clever and funny and… kind.”

Sirius pulled his fingertips away, leaning back with a sigh.

“Sometimes I think he’s too kind.” he murmured, looking inexplicably sad. 

Regulus wondered, silently, if that had something to do with the mysterious ‘incident’ that Orion had spoken about in the article. 

“I _know_ about Remus,” Regulus confessed quietly.

Sirius turned toward Regulus, looking closed off, seeming to prepare himself for his reaction.

“And I don’t care,” Regulus said levelly, “it would make me a bit of a hypocrite, after all.”

Sirius raised an eyebrow in question.

“Oliver,” Regulus explained, with a tiny smile. 

Sirius laughed a quiet, barking laugh, shaking his head.

“You never fail to surprise me,” he said quietly, “sometimes I feel like I hardly know you, Reg.”

Regulus set his arms on his knees, absentmindedly watching tiny blue sparks drift into the air.

“It’s because I’m a Slytherin,” Regulus said wisely, “someone told me it's a bit stupid that they separate us out by one or two personality traits. I mean- we’re probably a lot more similar than you’d think.” 

“Let me guess,” Sirius interrupted knowingly, “is that an Oliver-ism?”

Regulus smiled sheepishly, looking shyly down at his shoes. Sirius nudged him with his arm, a huge grin growing on his face.

“You seem pretty serious about this guy, Reg, so it’s my brotherly duty to bug you about him- have you held hands? Gone on dates? ....Have you two _kissed_ yet? Or have you-” 

“Shut up,” Regulus said automatically, with a rosy blush.

“ _You have!_ ” Sirius gasped, “Was that a yes to the handholding or the kissing?”

“We’re NOT having this conversation!” 

A very one-sided interrogation later, Sirius stood up, stretching, and the two picked up their brooms, starting back toward the school- Sirius’s magical fire bobbing a couple of meters behind them.

“So... It’s my birthday next week,” Sirius remarked, pulling his beanie further over his long hair, “and I’ll be of age.”

“...right,” Regulus replied, feeling a bit awkward.

Because they’d never really spoken to each other at school in previous years, he’d never really celebrated Sirius’s birthday with him either. With a guilty feeling, he realized he couldn’t even remember the last time he’d gotten Sirius a birthday present. 

He’d make up for it this year.

“Well, the boys and I were thinking of sneaking out into town for some Firewhisky,” Sirius said secretively, lowering his voice with a mischievous grin, “you coming?” 

“...I’m fifteen,” Regulus said flatly. 

“So? They aren’t of age yet either. Well, besides Remus, he’s a summer birthday like you,” Sirius pondered, “but I was really thinking that _maybe_ we could bop over to muggle London for you to see that Oliver of yours-”

“Really?” Regulus said hopefully, brightening instantly at the thought of seeing Oliver again, “then can I come?” 

“Head over heels I tell you,” Sirius lamented dramatically, “doesn’t care when it’s his dear older brother, but the moment the _boyfriend_ comes into the picture…” 

Regulus punched his arm, grinning, and Sirius just ruffled his hair. 

The week was a little better after that. 

***

_Dear Oliver,_

_I was going to write a normal letter, but it’s been a bit of a whirlwind of a week, so I made a list of things you should know instead:_

  * _There was an article about me and my brother in a gossip column of our newspaper implying that we’re friends with werewolves- no names or anything, but I think that’s what my father was up to when he was watching us that first night._



_(Honestly, it’s just silly wizard drama anyway, so I wouldn’t worry about it. I can’t believe how stupid people are sometimes. You’d think they’d have actual issues to report on.)_

  * _I met another werewolf at Hogwarts! He was just as surprised as I was. Anyway, he’s a year older, friends with James and my brother, and explained that he was the only werewolf let into Hogwarts and that he’s never really met other werewolves his age._



_(he only got in because of strange circumstances, I'll tell you in person. Or maybe he will if you meet him). He said he might have some tips for you as far as full moons and stuff, I’ve enclosed a note from him._

  * _I may or may not be in London next week for my brother’s birthday (September 20th)! Let me know if you’re free, you know I’d love to see you again._



_Anyway, wow. Apologies for the strange letter, it’s just a weird month, I think._

_How are things with you? Any new music I should know of? (even if I can't listen to it at the moment, I'm making a list so I can catch up during break)_

_Much love,_

_Regulus_


	17. Kisses of Fire

_9/15/76_   
_Regulus,_   
_Yes, yes, yes, come to London! Seriously, pick a time and place and I’ll be there._   
_I’ve got some news too: I came out to my brother._

_Do wizards have to do that too? I hope not, your world seems complicated enough._   
_Anyway, I haven’t told my parents yet, they already stress enough over me having a “rare condition”, but it’s alright. I don’t even live with them anyway, so it doesn’t matter._

_He remembered you from the day we met at the record shop. Said you were a bit strange, but don’t take it the wrong way- he’s into anything “fighting the norms of society”, whatever that means. He’s been making me listen to a band called ‘Black Sabbath’ 24/7, you need to come to save me- they’re good, it’s just way too intense for me sometimes._

_Also, is something happening in the wizarding world? Just judging by your note, I mean- Newspapers covering family feuds seem so wrong on so many levels. “muggle-born”, “pureblood”, “half-blood”. It’s just more judging people for things they can’t control, and we’ve already got enough of that here._

_I know we haven’t known each other long, but you’ve helped make a bit more sense of it all._

_Love,_   
_Oliver_

_***_

And that was why, after a very discombobulated affair with James’s stolen Floo powder, they quickly hijacked the Common Room fire, stumbling one by one into Diagon Alley, pulling their hats over their heads and trying to look a little more like they blended in. 

“Come on then!” Sirius said lightly, eyes glittering, tugging a sheepish Remus by the sleeve.

Fortunately, they all had all brought muggle clothes, stocked away in their trunks, except for Regulus (who borrowed a few of Sirius’s), so no one spared them a second glance- it would have been a dead giveaway if they had been wearing uniforms, after all.

Sirius was leading them to a sketchy looking, hole-in-the-wall muggle pub. 

“Why did we have to go to _muggle_ London?” Peter grumbled, speeding up a bit to keep up with Sirius’s longer legs, “we could have just gone to Hogsmeade. Or even the Leaky Cauldron, that’s still in wizard London. You're not even of age in the muggle world!” 

“That’s a really good question,” James said thoughtfully, “not that I’m complaining.”

Sirius glanced over knowingly at Regulus then back at Peter with a grin.   
“Maybe I just wanted a little adventure,” he said mischievously, “and it is my birthday, after all...”

He swung the door of the tiny pub open with a flourish to reveal the bustling scene. They squeezed into a corner near the window, while Sirius confidently ordered from the bartender like he’d been doing it for years. 

The old, tattooed man looked at each of them in the eye like he knew exactly what was happening here. The rest just smiled innocently from the corner, Regulus squirming at his particularly scrutinizing look toward him- but the man brought all five glasses out anyway. 

As the four Marauders launched into conversation, Regulus sipped idly on the drink, checking his watch every two seconds, peering out the window at every muggle that walked past. He was supposed to be meeting Oliver at 9:00, but it was already 9:30. 

“Are you not a fan of muggle drinks either?” Peter leaned in from across the table, as Sirius, James, and Remus launched into conversation.

“I don’t know,” Regulus replied, tracing patterns on the wooden table distractedly.

_Maybe he was just late._

“Don’t tell me you haven’t touched that yet, Pete,” James interrupted, grinning. 

“Don’t be too hard on him, Prongs,” Sirius said, already having downed his first drink and was onto his second, “we need at least one sober person for if we run into McGonagall.”

Remus snorted, eyeing the two with indulgent exasperation.

“You two are gonna be nightmares to deal with later,” he said rolling his eyes. 

“But you love me, Moons,” James said dramatically.

“Not as much as you love me,” Sirius said slyly, shoving James out of the way playfully. 

Peter wrinkled his nose at the thought, but Remus blushed inexplicably, sipping on his drink and shaking his head.  
  


***

Things were a bit pleasantly hazy when 10:15 rolled around- Sirius, also painfully aware that Oliver hadn’t shown up, kept shoving various types of drinks in his direction as a sort of well-intentioned consolation effort, making it his mission to rope him into the conversation.

Sirius tore into his badly wrapped presents, thanking Regulus probably a bit more than necessary for the Beatles t-shirt he’d bought for him during the summer. Regulus would have appreciated the sentiment if he couldn’t feel himself getting a little dizzy at the amount of muggle alcohol entering his system. 

‘ _I guess I’m letting Sirius corrupt me after all_ ,’ he thought wryly, resting his head in his hand, letting the conversation wash over him.

“Have you eaten anything yet Reg?” Remus asked, glancing worriedly at yet another close-to-empty glass, “maybe you should slow down and have some chips.” 

“Hm?” Regulus mumbled, peeking up from his arms at the basket of unappetizing, soggy chips, stomach doing a backflip, “No, alright. I mean, I _am_ alright.”

Remus continued to look at him, so Regulus got up swiftly before he could say another word.

“I’m just going to get some air,” he explained, shouldering past people in the crowded pub before the cold night air hit him. He sighed, sinking into the bench in front, and closed his eyes, urging the world to stop spinning so fast.

Yes, he could just have a nice, fun night with his brother and his friends, but couldn’t quite quench the stab of disappointment. 

***

“Hey!” 

He turned toward the voice. To his immense surprise, Oliver was jogging down the street, a huge grin on his face. 

“Sorry, I missed the bus and it was the last one going this way, and I had to take another route, and it took me a million years to get to the other side of the city because THAT bus was having issues, I’m so glad you’re still here-” Oliver was explaining breathlessly.

He paused in surprise as a grinning Regulus launched in his arms into a very uncharacteristic display of affection.

“I _missed_ you,” he exclaimed loudly into Oliver’s shoulder, breathing in his red sweatshirt, “thought you weren’t coming!” 

He stumbled back, already reconsidering this snap judgment decision. The sidewalk decided to lurch a little though, so he took a moment to steady himself on Oliver’s shoulder. 

He'd probably scared Oliver off.  
Oliver raised an eyebrow, with a confused smile that made his eyes crinkle.

“I... missed you too?” he said slowly, seeming to peer into Regulus’s eyes carefully. 

“Um- sorry- it’s just um-” Regulus stumbled over his words, and suddenly everything was much harder to explain with two, beautiful dark eyes staring at him, “you look nice today?” 

Oliver continued to stare at him with the same, assessing look.   
Regulus cleared his throat. 

“I mean, you’re here now, and I was worried- I mean- wasn’t worried,” Regulus reassured him quickly, trying to make sense of the cobwebs that were his mind before concluding that no, he hadn’t meant to say all that aloud.

Oliver just laughed, steadying him in his arms. Regulus stared up at him, knowing he was probably blushing to the roots of his hair. 

_Stupid stupid stupid_

“Regulus, are you... good?” Oliver asked, grinning and looking a bit perplexed. Regulus covered his face with his hands with an embarrassed groan, wishing he could go back in time and punch his sober self in the face- because of course, he’d showed up.

“Um- sorry, my brother kept giving me-” 

“Regulus,” a quiet, questioning voice made them both turn. Remus stood in the doorway, jean jacket slung over his shoulder and a bottle of water in his hand, looking at Oliver strangely. 

Oliver froze, looking down at Regulus, who just leaned further into his side, still mortified.

“This is Oliver,” Regulus introduced quickly, thankful for the distraction away from himself.

Remus blinked in pleasant surprise. 

“I’m Remus,” he said, extending a hand to him politely, “It’s so nice to meet you. I… hear you’re like me.” 

He had a look of wide-eyed excitement on his face as he saw Remus. Oliver grinned, tightening his grip on Regulus’s shoulder with one hand and shaking Remus’s hand with the other. 

“Hi! Thanks for the note, I really had no idea there were others my age,” he said in a rush, with a curious look on his face as he studied Remus, and Regulus could see Remus doing the same. 

“Write me any time,” Remus said genuinely, “really. I don’t mind at all.” 

Oliver grinned, seeming let go of some of the tensenesses in his body. Remus patted Oliver’s shoulder, materializing on Regulus’s other side and shoving the bottle of water into his hand. 

“You’re not drinking anything but water from now on, or Lily will kill me- she made me promise to keep an eye on you, you know,” he declared amusedly, “I had no idea you were such a lightweight.” 

“You don’t need to worry,” Regulus said confidently, before immediately stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk. Regulus grimaced as the two attempted, poorly, to stifle their laughter.

At this Remus couldn’t contain his snickers, ruffling Regulus’s hair. 

“Drink your water,” he repeated, at Regulus’s death glare. 

“Fine,” Regulus muttered, wishing the ground would just swallow him whole as Remus and Oliver, continued to talk animatedly over his head, “it's all Sirius’s fault, anyway.” 

  
***

As it turns out, the old bartender had decided to kick the group out anyway saying, with a knowing look, that it was ‘past their bedtime anyway’. Regulus had to admit, he had been rather cool about it though. Sirius had chosen well as far as pubs that were willing to bend the rules for a few underaged kids.

“We should probably head back before Lily decides to murder me,” James said with a sigh, arm and arm with Sirius, who shoved him as they walked.

“You’re the one who blabbed to her anyway, _lover-boy!_ ” he replied accusingly.

“I had to tell her!” James said, with a ridiculously gooey look in his eyes, “she’s-”

“The love of your life, yes, we know.” Peter finished rolling his eyes and sharing a long-suffering look with Remus, suggesting that this wasn’t the first time they’d had this particular conversation.

“Hey,” Sirius said knowingly, falling back to walk with Regulus and Oliver, trailing behind the group, “you two can go hang out somewhere if you want to.” 

“Sirius,” Remus said reproachfully, “what if he can’t make his way back?” 

“C’mon _Moony_ …” Sirius sighed, with a pleading look.

Oliver looked wide-eyed at the very obvious nickname, eyes bouncing between the two nervously, but Remus just snorted. 

Regulus rolled his eyes. 

“ _He’s_ right here,” he muttered. He wasn’t that far gone- he felt much better in the night air, having had some water. Sure, things were a little fuzzy around the edges, but he felt like he had it handled. 

“Reg’s fine,” Sirius said, directing his words toward Regulus, “besides, Oliver here didn’t come all the way from the other side of the city just for us to leave right now,” 

Remus sighed, looking unconvinced, but softened at Oliver’s carefully hopeful look.

  
“Oh, _alright_ ,” he said finally, with a sharp look in Sirius's way, “just be careful.”

His eyes were carefully trained on the two as he spoke, with a hint of protectiveness in his tone. Regulus had never known that side of Lupin before- it was rather sweet. Oliver and Regulus nodded dutifully.

“Look- Reg, you know how to get back to the alley, right?” Sirius asked cryptically, and Oliver watched this interaction curiously, “and you’ve got your…”

“Got it,” Regulus cut in exasperatedly, a hand immediately finding his jacket pocket, where his wand and some extra Floo powder was, “honestly, you two, I’m not completely helpless.” 

“Hey,” Sirius said with a fond smile, “I’m your older brother, I’ve got to look out for you.” 

“I know it’s your birthday, but you’re not that much older,” Regulus grumbled, “I’m going to have to put my foot down if you give me a curfew or something.” 

“Alright, alright,” Sirius sighed amusedly, before clapping Oliver on the shoulder, “wake me up when you’re back, alright?”

And then the four were on their way with friendly waves, catching up with James and Peter, until their laughter was drifting away around the corner. 

Oliver shifted nervously, rubbing the back of his neck. 

“Are you… do they know about us?” Oliver asked softly, a blush staining his dark skin.

“Just Sirius knows about the, um- you and me,” Regulus reassured him quickly.

“Oh,” Oliver said, looking impossibly flustered.

“Sorry, I shouldn’t have told him,” Regulus said quickly, wondering if he had made a horrible mistake in assuming they’d had something more, “I just thought…”

“Yes!” Oliver said, with a look of relief on his face, “yes, I mean, that’s fine. I was hoping we were still…” 

Regulus laughed, twirling him around with confidence he didn’t know he had. The edge of anxiety in Oliver’s eyes seemed to fade at that, so Regulus shifted closer, heart quickening and the warm feeling in his stomach swirling. 

“You’re wearing it!” 

With a surprised smile, Oliver reached forward, touching the pendant on Regulus’s neck, twirling it in his fingers.

“Hey,” Regulus whispered, and suddenly Oliver was much closer, honey brown eyes wide, breath on his cheek. 

Spurred on by a surge of boldness from either the alcohol or something from much deeper within, he cupped Oliver's face, lips crashing onto his, curling his fingers into curly hair, and he was being pulled closer, two hands on his waist, and the world was spinning off its axis again. The whole street seemed to disappear for a moment. 

By the time Oliver was pulling away, both of them were out of breath.   
There was silence in which Oliver just stared at him, wide eyes glittering with the light of streetlights.

“Sorry,” Regulus said softly, “sorry if that- if it’s too much. Just tell me. I don’t know what I’m doing, or if I’m going too fast... ” 

“No! That was- that was perfect,” Oliver breathed. 

He seemed to struggle to find the words for a moment, but he didn’t move away.

So Regulus waited.

“It’s just that,” Oliver said suddenly, almost to himself, “we’ve only known each other for a couple of months and you know everything about me. And I still don’t know much, I mean, about you.” 

Regulus sighed.

He couldn’t relate to having a ‘huge secret’. 

He hadn’t even really known he liked guys, so that hadn’t really been a secret either- Now that he thought about it, it seemed he was simply holding other people’s secrets for safekeeping. He’d always just been the one fading into the background going along with it.

“You just found me at the right time,” Regulus replied honestly, “I mean… sure, maybe it’s strange. But our whole lives are a lil- a little strange too. And um…”

He stared down at his shoes, shaking his head with a reproachful laugh.

“ _I_ don’t really know me yet either,” he said truthfully.

“Well whoever you are,” Oliver said, taking Regulus’s hands in his, “I want to know you.” 

Oliver blinked, and the moment seemed to end as quickly as it started. 

“It’s just- I feel so stupid sometimes. Like everything is just so different in our worlds...” Oliver admitted, grimacing.

Regulus let out a breath- so _that’s_ what he was worried about. 

“We’ll… get to know each other first, then,” Regulus said simply.

“I’m being stupid, aren’t I?” Oliver muttered, “I just don’t want to mess it all up with you.” 

“You won’t,” Regulus chided, squeezing his hand. Oliver nodded, with an achingly sweet devotion in his eyes. 

“Out! Get out!” 

The two jumped apart instantly, jerking toward a young woman in business attire, running full speed at them. Oliver and Regulus immediately flattened toward the wall. 

“Miss-”  
“Go, run!” she shrieked, “They’re coming, they’re-” 

Out of nowhere, a chilling flash of green light appeared, and the woman immediately crumpled to the ground, unmoving. Regulus’s breath caught in his throat- grabbing Oliver by the elbow and yanking him down the street at full speed.

  
_She’s dead she’s dead she’s dead_

“We have to help her,” Oliver was shouting, pulling back against him, toward the woman, “we have to call-”   
“Crucio!” 

The familiar word was shouted from a distance, but to Regulus, those words were already etched in his veins.

Regulus could hear the distant screaming of what seemed to be hundreds, and suddenly the street came to life in muggles, running through the streets. The screeches of vehicles slamming on the breaks as people streamed out of buildings. Someone was huddled in a telephone booth, shouting into the device, before he, too, slumped where he stood.

“Oliver, come on! COME ON!”

Then, marching around the corner was dark, robed figures, with strange skull-like masks, their wands were drawn.

They were _wizards._  
There were _wizards killing muggles_.

Oliver was scooping up an abandoned young girl, sobbing into his arms, pulling Regulus into a shop against his will. 

“We’ll call the police,” Oliver snapped, running behind the counter, where the cashier was huddled, unconscious, and a group of muggle teenagers was hiding, eyes wide, “we have to call the police-”

“The police aren’t going to fucking help,” Regulus shouted, “it’s magic, Oliver, it’s _magic!_ ”

Another scream broke through the din.   
Oliver froze, mouth wide.

“The green lights are the killing curse,” Regulus explained desperately, “I don’t know who these people are, but you _cannot get hit!_ ”

Out of nowhere, a fire was crackling, and the group of teenagers, edged away from it, toward Oliver who stood frozen with the phone in a death grip.

More laughing, robed figures were starting toward the shop, and a cacophony of colorful lights were blasting toward them mixed with the scent of burning plastic-

“PROTEGO! _Bombarda_!” Regulus shouted, cursing his sluggish reactions- the shield held, holding the curses at bay for a moment and the second spell blasted the robed figures back. Nonetheless, the flames grew, a massive wall surrounding them with impossible speed.

Magical speed.

_“Aguamenti!”_ Regulus shouted at the billowing flames. 

The flames seemed to be tamed slightly, before sparking up again.   
“Well, well,” a high, cold voice was saying from behind him, and he whirled around.

An unmasked man with neat hair and dark, immaculate robes, stood casually in the doorway.

“If it isn’t one of my fallen angels.” 

“Stupefy!” Regulus shouted, staggering back, but the spell merely glanced off of the man, who twirled his wand between his fingers, a little smirk on his face. In an instant, the group of muggle teenagers was writhing in the air, suspended by their ankles screaming in sheer panic.

“Expelliarmus!” Regulus tried, “ _expelliarmus_!”

But the wand stayed firmly in the man’s hand.

The man just pushed him aside with a whoosh of wind and suddenly, he too was suspended in the air, wand dropping from his grip. 

“That’s the best you can do?” he said softly, “how… disappointing. We could have been great, you and I.” 

Regulus reached down, lunging for his wand, fingertips just out of reach.

_Just a little further._

“Yes... I think you’ll do, Regulus Black,” the man was saying with a slow smile, revealing pearly white teeth, nearing until their eyes were meeting. Regulus’s breath caught in his throat- it seemed like the man’s eyes had flashed a deep, blood red.

“You’ll make a fine example for the rest of the blood traitors.” 

“What do you m-”

“CRUCIO!” 

And everything else vanished from his mind.

This curse was a hundred times worse than it had been with his mother- it was a viciousness that caused every nerve to explode, every muscle to fall out of his control, a scream to rip out of his throat, so much so that he couldn’t make time to breathe. Suspended in the air, he could feel his limbs moving out of his control, trying desperately to curl away, but there was nothing beneath him to ground him- only pain.

He could hardly recognize the pleads as his own, his voice weak and croaky. There was a brief reprieve, Regulus blinking the stars out of his vision before the man started it again, for what seemed to be an eternity. 

He wondered if it was just him screaming.

It didn’t seem like it.

He could hear one of the muggle girls sobbing next to him, wondering if she was next. 

“STOP IT! STOP IT!” Oliver was shouting from what seemed like a great distance, and suddenly there was another explosion- shattered glass was flying through the air, and Regulus fell unceremoniously on the ground, convulsing. 

He looked up through the hazy smoke, looking for the Aurors, only to find Oliver- swaying slightly with a strange, confused look on his face-- the moment seeming to slow-- before he crumpled to the ground with a sigh.

“No… no… Oliver...” Regulus moaned, inching toward the boy from the ground on his elbows, everything seeming to ebb between too sharply in focus and blurred in a second.

It took him a second to realize that the blurriness was his tears.

“How... interesting,” the cold, high said offhandedly, and Regulus could hear his heart in his throat. He picked up his wand, trying to stand up- to face the man- but he could hardly move. He closed his eyes, waiting for the end.

He could only see Oliver falling again and again in his mind.

_Oliver._

“Stand down! Aurors! AURORS!” an insistent voice was calling from outside, but it no longer mattered. He opened his eyes, staring at the murderer's shiny black shoes- with not a scuff on them.

“Remember, boy, you are _nothing_ against us- against me,” the high voice whispered.

And then he was gone with a crack, Regulus staring numbly at Oliver's body.

Head turned away.  
Unmoving.  
Curly hair splayed across the tile.   
Arms spread out wide.

“Ol…” Regulus whispered, “Oliv…”   
_Oliver._

“Is- is he alright?” someone was saying.

Then the muggle teenagers were picking themselves up from the ground, some running out of the store, with panicked gasps.

Silence.

  
“AURORS- I mean- Police! Declare yourself!” 

Silence.

“ _They’ve all apparated!_ ” a voice was shouting, “they’re all gone. One in custody-” 

Regulus closed his eyes, completely still. 

He couldn’t breathe.

He couldn’t speak.

He couldn’t feel anything at all.

  
“How many dead in this area,” a voice was saying in a rush, and he could hear the tap of shoes on the cold linoleum floor.  
“Just these two.” a low voice entered in return.

There was a tired sigh, and the tap of boots walking around the store.

“Secure the perimeter.” the voice said curtly.

_Oliver._   
_He’s dead._

Regulus wondered, briefly, if he was dead too. If he was simply hovering over his own corpse as a regretful spirit. It would have felt better than being alive and _knowing_ -

A sharp gasp came from his left.

“God-” one of the voices was nearing, “no, God, please- Regulus- _Regulus!_ ”

Someone was grabbing him by the shoulders, but he couldn’t open his eyes, he couldn’t summon the strength. He could feel his consciousness tapering, the only reprieve-

_Let me go._

“Who?” 

“He’s my boy, he’s my _boy_ \- come on, Regulus, open your eyes, please!” the voice was calling desperately.

_Let me go._   
_He’s dead._

It couldn’t be Orion, he wasn’t an Auror. 

He was nobody’s boy.

He was nobody.

“Please- _please_ \- wake up, son, come on, please-” 

  
He could feel a hand on his wrist, pressing almost painfully. 

Looking for a pulse. 

Shaking him by the shoulders, hard. 

Regulus let out a low groan at the blinding pain of sudden motion, eyes fluttering open, to see Charlus Potter staring down at him, brown eyes wide and scared, and so desperately relieved. 

He phased in and out of focus for a moment.

“Thank God,” Charlus whispered, before noticing Regulus’s face contorted with pain, he set him down, cool knuckles on his forehead, “tell me what hurts, tell me what hurts--” 

_Everything._   
_Everything hurts._

“Robins, get me a healer _now!_ ” 

He couldn’t say anything.

He could only feel his breaths coming out faster and faster. 

Like he was being strangled by his panic.

By his body's own wretched will to live.

“Deep breaths, _deep breaths,_ ” Charlus ordered, sounding panicked, “we’re getting you help, just hang on,”

“Dead-” Regulus managed finally, between gasps, and everything was blurry again.

_Oliver is dead._

“My sweet boy,” Charlus whispered, voice choked with emotion, gently pulling the boy into his arms, “you’re not going to die. You’re not going anywhere, I promise.”

Regulus could see Oliver over Charlus’s shoulder, still and silent.

And everything seemed to crumble. 


	18. Angel Down

“Can you tell me your name?”

“Regulus Black.” 

“Today’s date?” 

“September twentieth.”

“The current Minister of Magic?”

“Minister Leach.”

“Whereabouts were you tonight?”

“I was-”

Regulus dug his fingers into the crisp white sheets, leaning back on his pillows.   
The popcorn ceiling was the same, cold white.   
It lacked any sort of life.

The ward was completely silent for a while.

“I was in London,” he said hollowly, throat closing up, “Muggle London.”

The healer edged closer to him, his eyes narrowing as he looked at him, and a self-dictating quill pausing on the paper on the side-table.

“Regulus,” the healer was saying softly, but Regulus didn’t look at him, “how are you feeling?” 

_How are you feeling?_

His heart twisted.

“Fine,” Regulus replied, monotone. The healer sighed, not looking like he believed him. 

“No aches or pains? Any… lingering tremors perhaps?” 

Regulus shook his head mutely, looking down at his hands. 

They were still trembling and achy, everything still hurt, but he wasn’t about to say so.

“Alright,” the healer said quietly, blue eyes flicking down to Regulus’s hands and a frown pulling at his lips, “just know that- the amount of time and the... _intensity_ in which you were under the Cruciatus curse was severe, and you will need to be in bed for at least a few days. You should make a full recovery, but you’ll need to take this potion two times a day…”

The rest of the healer’s spiel flew over Regulus’s head as he zoned out, watching the quill scribble itself across the paper. 

  
_Oliver would have said something about some muggle thing that could do the same thing._

_Oliver would have laughed at the fact that they called doctors ‘healers’._

“Regulus…”

_Oliver would have-_

  
“Regulus,” the healer was interrupting his thoughts in an instant with a measured look on his face, “what are you thinking about?”

“I’m not _thinking about_ anything,” Regulus interrupted sharply, voice rising, “I’m not crazy.”

“I never said you were,” the healer soothed after a pause. The healer waved his wand, and the parchment and quill fell back onto the table unmoving. 

“Then why are you asking me all these questions?” Regulus asked angrily, sitting up abruptly, “why do you want to know?” 

The healer stood up, pushing him gently back into his pillows, unwavering.

“It’s the protocol,” he said levelly, “for curses like these.”

Regulus curled into his pillows, the trembling in his hands intensifying. 

The two were silent.

The healer opened a drawer, carefully sifting through tiny vials, before procuring a small, purple potion. 

_Pain-relieving potion._

He pressed it into Regulus’s hand expectantly, steadying it in his grip.  


Regulus stared down at it, sorely tempted to hurl the thing at the opposite wall. 

But he didn’t.

“There are some people here to see you,” the healer said gently, as Regulus reluctantly sipped the bitter liquid, “I can let them in if you like. It’s completely your choice.”

Regulus swallowed hard.

He knew he was being irrational.

But he just couldn’t.

He couldn’t handle Charlus, calling him ‘his boy’. 

He couldn’t handle Euphemia, gathering him up in her arms and telling him he’s a blessing.

He couldn’t handle James, peppering him with worried questions.

But maybe, just maybe, he could handle Sirius.

“I-” he started, throat tight, “I just want to see my brother.” 

***

Regulus lay there, feeling like he was floating- the potion took away the pain, yes, but it also made him feel, in many ways, ten times more horrible. 

When he had no aching muscles or twinges of pain to focus on, all that was left to think about was Oliver.

_“I just don’t want to mess it all up with you.”_

  
And he never had, even in the end. 

He'd never had the chance.

There was a rustle at the door. 

Sirius burst into the room, frazzled, still in the same, muggle clothes- the Beatles shirt that Regulus had gotten him still tugged over his long sleeve. He looked the most worried that Regulus had ever seen him, almost as if he was about to break down at any second.

But he didn’t say anything, sitting down on the low chair by the bed with a strange stiffness, resting his elbows on the mattress.

Waiting.

So they sat for a long time, Regulus just silently staring up at the ceiling.

“Sirius,” Regulus said distantly, eyes fixed on a spot on the ceiling, “who did it?” 

Sirius swallowed convulsively, a flicker of anger entering in eyes.

And Regulus could handle anger. 

“A new terrorist group that- that call themselves Death Eaters,” he said tightly, “and man that- that called himself Voldemort. ”

_Voldemort._

Regulus blinked, taking a deep breath. 

Readying himself.

“How many people... died?” he asked, voice breaking. Sirius shifted in his seat, fists clenched.

“Twenty-two muggles that we know of.” Sirius whispered, “and- and three Aurors."

Regulus shut his eyes, feeling nauseous. 

Thinking of the lady that had tried to warn them, motionless on the sidewalk.

The man in the telephone booth calling the police that would never come.

Oliver trying to stop a wizard, alone and wandless.

But not him. 

But not one useless, pureblood boy. 

They were separate, even in death.

“Toujours Pur,” Regulus mumbled to himself, meeting Sirius’s worried, tired, scared gaze.

He was, wasn’t he- _always pure_ , despite all of it. 

He could never escape.

And suddenly, a hysterical, strange laugh was clawing its way up to his throat. 

Sirius leaned forward, hand meeting Regulus’s shoulder in an instant. 

“What is it?” Sirius was asking sharply, but Regulus just kept on shaking with laughter, almost choking on his silent mirth, completely out of his control.

“You don’t- you don’t get it,” he stressed, curling away from Sirius, “It’s my fault. They won’t leave me alone, he let me live because I’m a _pureblood_ , like that means anything-” 

What had that man called him?

A fallen angel. 

But he had gotten it wrong- 

The real fallen angel was Oliver. 

He was just the boy who couldn’t save him. 

And just like that, Sirius was pulling him into a hug- the very thing he didn’t want, the very thing he didn’t deserve. 

It was a long time before the demented laugher quieted, Sirius having crawled onto the small bed with him, holding him tight to his chest. 

The two lay there, Regulus trying to reign in his shaky breaths and put himself back together again. Regulus nestled his face into Sirius’s chest, not caring anymore if he looked like a child. 

Sirius tightened his arms around him.

“God, Reg, I’m so fucking sorry,” Sirius said in a choking gasp, voice muffled in Regulus’s hair.

“No,” Regulus said weakly. He closed his eyes, feeling more than ever like disappearing,  
“Sirius, don’t.”

“Your Oliver…” Sirius started but Regulus shook his head.

“No,” Regulus pleaded, voice small, hands curling tight into Sirius’s t-shirt, “I _can’t_ -” 

“Charlus said if his accidental magic hadn’t reacted like that...” 

Regulus gasped, hurt, breaths uneven. 

Why had he kept going? 

Why couldn’t Sirius just leave it?

“He made the glass blow out, and distracted that- Voldemort, just for a second,” he plowed on tiredly, “gave the Aurors enough time to get to you before he could…”

Sirius sighed over his head.

“I didn’t even know he had magic. Did- did you know?”

Regulus was frozen.   
He didn’t answer.

“Then he killed him.” Regulus finished numbly, shaking.

He broke off, closing his eyes. 

Seeing the whole thing play out again in his head.

Oliver falling like a puppet whose strings had snapped.

He curled his hands into fists so hard that his nails were digging into his skin.

Sirius stiffened.

“No,” Sirius cut in with a gasp, sitting up in instant, “who told you that?” 

Regulus let in a shuddering gasp, shooting up as well, and ignoring the stab of pain it sent through his back. 

Sirius pushed him back down gently. 

“He dead,” he started, eyes wide, “I _saw_ him fall, he wasn’t moving-”

“He’d been blocking off his magic for so long that accidental magic like that overwhelmed him,” Sirius explained softly, “and he- he collapsed.”

“Oh,” Regulus whispered, stunned, “so he’s-”

“Alive. He’s _alive_ ,” Sirius finished, looking horrified, “Oh, Reg, did you think-” 

Reg could barely summon a nod, taking in one shaky breath, and then another, trembling. 

“I thought-” he breathed, voice strangled, “I thought he-” 

And suddenly, it all was coming out- everything that he’d been holding onto.

Every horrible, horrible thing that happened to seem to culminate into gasping, quiet sobs.

“He’s alive,” Sirius whispered, capturing him in a crushing hug- one that hurt a fair bit, but Regulus didn’t care a whit, because Oliver was in some room of the hospital, living and breathing, “he’s going to be alright, Reg, you both are.” 

He suddenly understood Charlus’s look of intense relief, when he had held Regulus so close to his chest. 

_You’re not going to die._  
_You’re not going anywhere, I promise._

  
***

The healer kicked Sirius out after that, saying that Regulus was too ‘worked up’ for visitors that night (which Regulus vehemently denied), pressing another strangely-colored potion in his hand that made everything fade into a dreamless sleep- 

but even the next day Regulus woke up with his heart racing, its rhythm sped up by the news. He didn’t think that more or fewer visitors made any difference at all.

Muggle London had been in disarray, he’d met Voldemort, and everything was terrible- but Oliver was still _breathing_.

“Regulus, I’m going to need you to lie back down for me,” the same healer was saying calmly as Regulus tried to get out of bed for the hundredth time.

“I’m fine. My friend Oliver, he was injured,” he was telling the Healer insistently, “he- I need to make sure he’s alright, I need to see him.” 

The healer, a thin, middle-aged man with his mouth pressed into a straight line, wrung his hand, looking a bit worn down.

“I’ll see what I can do,” he said finally, “what’s his last name?” 

Regulus opened his mouth, drawing a blank, heart dropping.

He didn’t even know his last name- he hadn’t needed to. 

“Knoll,” a confident voice answered from the doorway, “Oliver Knoll.”

The healer and Regulus both turned around, looking rather surprised, Regulus lying back in his pillows again in surprise when he saw Charlus standing in the doorway, with a beautifully alive Oliver standing next to him. Their eyes locked, and Regulus had to blink, hard, to make sure that his eyes were working right.

He looked better than he did- he was standing after all, while he was lying in a hospital bed. 

“Auror Potter,” the healer was saying, looking rather taken aback, “I was unaware that you were questioning today, I don’t think-”

“I’ll remind you that I’m his guardian,” Charlus cut in softly, and the healer's eyes widened, “and I took the liberty of bringing his friend here myself. His healer also agreed that a visit should be beneficial.” 

The man opened his mouth again, but Charlus continued.

“I do think that this ought to _lower_ his stress levels,” Charlus said pointedly, “if that’s what we’re worried about.” 

Regulus had never felt more grateful for Charlus Potter. 

The healer hesitated, adjusting Regulus’s pillows and nodding awkwardly. He slipped out the door, Charlus at his heels with a warm look at the two before he left.

Oliver immediately raced toward him, hands hovering over him for a minute, as though scared of breaking him, but Regulus just reached up, placing his hand on Oliver’s chest, feeling that comforting, wonderful beat of his heart, before pulling him into a hug.

_Alive._

Oliver was looking at him as though he might disappear at any second. Regulus took in every detail- the new, tiny scars on his neck, probably from shards of glass, the bags under his eyes, the white hospital robes a sharp contrast to his radiant brown skin.

But he was here.

  
_Alive._

Regulus tried to quench the sudden tears streaming down his face, tried to hold it in, but that part of him seemed to be broken.

  
“It’s alright,” Oliver whispered, brushing tears away with his thumbs, “it’s alright.” 

Regulus took a deep breath, leaning back into his pillows, but held tight onto Oliver’s hand.

He could feel Oliver’s shaky breath before he pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, smoothing his hair. 

“His magic,” Oliver said tremulously, eyes haunted, “It was terrible to watch you and not- and not be able to _do_ anything… I- I thought you were dying...” 

Regulus squeezed Oliver’s hand, never looking away once. 

“We’re here,” Regulus said. Oliver shuddered, grip tightening on his hand.

“You faced him alone,” Oliver said, eyes wide, “you tried to take him down yourself.”

“You helped me too,” Regulus replied quietly, “with your magic.” 

Oliver looked down, blushing, and Regulus followed his gaze. A thin, unassuming metal cuff was on his wrist- Regulus raised his wrist, worriedly studying the distinctly magical ruins etched into it. 

He stared at him questioningly.

“I can’t _control_ it anymore,” he explained ashamedly, “so… they said this will help me... keep it under control until I can do it myself. Magic, I mean.”

He looked away, looking a bit self-conscious- like he was already beating himself up. 

Like his magic was another beast to be tamed.

Another evil to be contained.

Regulus drew in a breath.

Regulus brought Oliver’s hand up to his chest, tracing soothing circles on Oliver’s palm.

“Good magic,” he reminded him softly, and Oliver’s features softened, “you’ve got good magic.”

“Good magic,” Oliver repeated, blinking rapidly, a glossy sheen over his brown eyes.

Regulus had never seen anything more beautiful than those eyes, filled with life. 

By the time Charlus returned, the two were fast asleep, comfortably curled into one another as they’d never been apart. 

Two worlds that continued to intertwine, despite both worlds falling to pieces.


	19. Aftermaths

“ _Lumos_ ,” 

Regulus watched his wand tip illuminate the dim room like a spotlight.   
Oliver gasped, peering closer at it with curious eyes. 

“It’s like... a flashlight?” he asked slowly. Regulus nodded, assuming that a flashlight was what it sounded like. 

“It’s one of the first spells I learned,” Regulus told him softly, curled up on the couch at the Potter House. Though the healers had deemed him pretty much recovered (besides telling him to not do anything too strenuous), Euphemia had insisted on bringing him home, saying she wanted him to stay for the week. 

Just to make sure. 

It was probably the first time Regulus had wanted to stay home since he had started Hogwarts- the headlines of the Daily Prophet were enough to make him unspeakably anxious- their coverage of the attack making him remember it all over again. 

Even worse, the muggle papers were covering it as a _gas explosion._

It felt wrong somehow, that a murderous lunatic and his cult was on the loose and the muggle world was none the wiser. 

He could only imagine how gleeful Bellatrix and the rest of his family was...

“ _Nox_ ,” Regulus intoned clearly, and the light vanished. Oliver scooted closer to him, examining Regulus’s wand movements carefully. 

When Euphemia visited, she'd taken one look at Oliver and Regulus, fast asleep on the hospital bed in each other’s arms, and immediately taken him under her wing- making sure he was taken to get a wand, carefully explaining every little magical diagnosis to his muggle brother Jack, and going so far as to invite the two over to help them figure out their next move with Oliver’s long-suppressed magic. 

Once learning from a suspicious-looking Jack that Orion Black had deemed Oliver ‘unteachable’ and ‘too dangerous’ to give a wand because of his condition- Euphemia seemed determined to prove him wrong. 

Regulus could hear the two’s muffled voices from the kitchen, still talking earnestly about it, while Regulus and Oliver sat in the other room, side-by-side.

“You can try,” Regulus encouraged him softly. Oliver nodded, looking warily down his brand-new wand, awkwardly grasping it in his left hand. He took a deep breath.

“ _Lumos_ ,” he whispered, and the wand tip illuminated in a spark like a tiny, fallen star- not nearly as bright as Regulus’s, but enough to emit a warm glow. Oliver gasped, breaking into a relieved grin- looking more excited than Regulus had ever seen him. 

“It worked!” he cheered happily, fingertips brushing over the tiny spark of light, “um- _nox?_ ”

The light vanished. 

“Perfect!” Regulus said, melting at the look of pure joy in Oliver’s face- something that both of them had been sorely lacking following the terrible night.

Oliver smiled softly, looking a little less like he was holding a ticking bomb.

“Can you show me something else?” he asked, with a sort of childish curiosity about him. 

Regulus couldn’t help but smile.

“Alright, here’s one for you to practice…” 

He directed his wand toward the coffee table, focusing on a fountain pen with an eagle eye. 

“Wingardium leviosa,” he stated slowly, and with a precise swish and flick of his wand, the pen was spinning through the air. 

Regulus glanced over, expecting the same excitement, but instead, Oliver was watching it with wide-eyed, unbridled fear.

Regulus instantly let the pen drop with a clatter. 

Oliver looked down, putting his wand back onto the table. 

“That’s… that’s the spell that he used on you.” 

Regulus blinked, before remembering with a pang that Oliver had witnessed Voldemort levitate him, and the group of muggle teenagers, while he was being tortured. 

_And if that didn’t ruin that particular spell for both of them..._

“Oh,” he muttered, shrinking into the couch cushions, “Yes. That spell wasn’t the- the painful one, though.” 

Oliver swallowed, seeming to sense the shift in mood. 

He shifted closer to Regulus, looking a little apologetic.

Regulus took a deep breath, trying to force those memories out of his mind.

“You don’t have to do this one,” Regulus reassured him, reaching over and patting his knee, “but just know that ...it’s not the _spell_ that’s evil. It’s- that was him. It doesn’t bother me doing it because… it’s a pen, not a person.” 

Oliver let out a huff of laughter at that, hugging his knees to his chest.

“You sound like my brother,” he sighed amusedly, “ _‘it’s not the wolf, Ols, it’s the person inside’_.” 

Regulus frowned at Oliver’s disbelieving tone.

“Your brother’s right,” he argued quietly. Oliver just shrugged, eyes glittering, picking up the wand again, turning it in his hand experimentally.

“It’s like… a gun,” Oliver mused quietly, eyes worried and jaded, “except you don’t know if it’s going to kill you or… or be something useful, like a flashlight.” 

Regulus didn’t quite know what to say to this, completely unnerved- he’d never in his life thought about a wand that way. A wand was just like another limb to him, and every wizarding adult. It was every wizard's gateway to using their magic.

But Oliver’s idea of it was terrifyingly true. 

There was a sobering silence.

Oliver wrapped a long arm around him.

“Well, one thing’s for sure,” Oliver said, changing the subject quickly, “you wizards are very lazy.”

“What?” Regulus exclaimed, a little offended.

“Well, come on- it is a little over the top. Want that book over there? Just vangardium levioso it over here-” 

“Wingardium leviosa.” Regulus corrected, a bit horrified at such a blasphemous view of magic. 

Oliver rolled his eyes.

“Whatever you say,” Oliver said easily, still a hint of worry in his smile. 

Regulus elbowed him in the ribs.

“This is all very accusatory for someone who only knows of TWO spells...” he started half-heartedly.

Oliver smiled down at him, and Regulus just sighed, leaning into Oliver’s shoulder.

“We’re just efficient,” Regulus said calmly, closing his eyes and trying to get some of the anxiety to dispel from his chest. Oliver let out a cough that sounded suspiciously like ‘ _owls_ ’, but let it go, wrapping his arms around him from behind, gently pulling him closer to his chest. 

And who was Regulus to argue with that?

***

Oliver and a considerably less worried-looking Jack had left, with a promise to return to talk to them more- leaving Charlus, Euphemia, and Regulus sitting in the living room at a standstill. 

It hit Regulus that they had never talked, just the three of them. 

Regulus picked up the paper from the coffee table with numb fingers, staring at the jarring, almost unbelievable headlines for the hundredth time. It was inconceivable- muggles and wizards had been living separately, and peacefully, for so long. 

  
_Death Eaters: Waging War on Muggle London, 30 Dead_

_Blood Purity: Out of Politics and into the Streets_

_Who is Voldemort? A Political Enigma of the Modern Wizarding World_

  
Underneath each article was some variation of a black and white moving picture of muggles, running every which way, figures in black robes in the distance. 

“Your… parents have been temporarily arrested,” Charlus mentioned, as though gauging his reaction, “they are under suspicion for involvement.” 

Regulus nodded distractedly. Suddenly the charges he’d been so eager to press against them seemed miles away- a tiny blip in the grand scheme of the Wizarding World. 

_Too many people were dying for him to care._

_Too many death eaters were still at large._

Charlus shifted in his seat.

“Nobody knows what this ‘Voldemort’ looks like, only that the ‘death eaters’ are using his name as a rallying cry,” Charlus explained bluntly, “we don’t think he took his mask off. But we… we strongly believe he’s the one who attacked you.” 

Euphemia glanced at Charlus, mouth twisting into a disapproving frown.

Regulus just shook his head, wrenching his eyes away from the picture. 

“No, that’s wrong,” he said quickly, heart racing, “I _saw_ him- he didn’t have a mask when he…” 

_“Remember, boy, you are nothing against us- against me,” the high voice had whispered._

It had to have been him.

There had been so much pain, but he knew- he knew he had looked Voldemort in the eyes.

“Tell me what he looked like,” Charlus ordered, leaning forward, suddenly very sharply in focus and a dark look on his face. 

“Charlus,” Euphemia said reprovingly, glancing worriedly at Regulus, who stared down at the picture of death eaters again, eyes distant and grip tightening on the paper. 

“His eyes were… red,” Regulus started hesitantly, wondering if that whole bit was an addled figment of his imagination, “he was- he was pale. He had hair sort of…sort of the same as mine.” 

Something about that was incredibly off-putting- Voldemort having the same hairstyle, albeit a little neater.

The same, shiny shoes that Regulus would have worn if his parents had still been in charge of him. 

Voldemort looked exactly like someone Walburga would have adored- right down to the deranged demeanor- the exact ‘someone’ that he would have had to grow into if he still was in the House of the Blacks.

“He was… wearing different robes,” Regulus remembered, eyes widening, “those traditional pureblood ones I used to wear all the time. You know, the ones with the high collars?”

He closed his eyes, trying to remember the specifics.

Regulus’s mind flitting unwittingly back to the picture that he’d slipped under his bed at Hogwarts all those weeks ago- the one of him and Sirius. 

_I._  
_Regulus Black, 15_  
_Status: Blood-Traitor_

Red blotted ink x-ed through his tiny face.

The same, dark, formal robes down to the silver buttons.

He could have kicked himself.

  
“No- they were exactly like mine,” Regulus muttered, throwing the paper down to the coffee table, “he knew what I looked like. He knew my _name_. He call- called me an angel...”

_One of my fallen angels._

“What makes you say that? What did you know about him before?” Charlus asked tensely, eyes zeroing in on him with laser focus, Regulus tensed at his sudden sharpness, breath catching, clenching the sleeves of his sweater.

“ _Charlus_ ,” Euphemia rebuked again, standing up and sitting next to Regulus- a light hand resting on his back, “that’s enough questioning.” 

Regulus met Charlus’s eyes, and all fight seemed to drain from the man’s body. 

Charlus was desperate.

Tired. 

He leaned back in his armchair, looking older than Regulus remembered him being.

Regulus shook his head, feeling nauseous, unconsciously moving away from the two.

“My cousins, they’ve all been watching me,” he pressed, trying to make them understand, “my family kept telling me I was ‘first in line’. I thought it was something political, I thought- they were just trying to- to humiliate me…” 

Regulus put his head in his hands.

He thought Voldemort was some sort of political ‘bogeyman’ used by his family to scare him. 

_How stupid he was._

“They’ve been trying to scare me,” he said quietly, “all of my House- Rosier, Bellatrix, and the rest of them... Being all cryptic, warning me about ‘you know who’ and- and-”

He balled his fists, 

“And what?” Euphemia asked gently.

“They locked me in a cupboard,” Regulus mumbled, blushing at the confession, “called me a half-breed lover. After that article came out about Sirius and me.”

It all seemed so tiny. 

Schoolboy antics that somehow had become caught up in a horrible movement. 

“I should have known,” Regulus said, frustrated with himself.

Charlus got up suddenly with a fiery look in his eyes, causing Regulus to flinch, and promptly disappeared into the fire without another word. 

_Angry._

_You made him angry._

Regulus stiffened, looking unsurely at Euphemia. 

“He’s not angry at you,” she said reassuringly, reading his fearful look in an instant, “he’s just worried. We all were worried about you when you were in St. Mungos, especially since Aurors have been having trouble finding this… Voldemort.” 

Regulus nodded jerkily, still a bit anxious about his abrupt exit.

“I’m sorry,” Regulus burst out, “for sneaking out. I shouldn't have done it,” 

“Dear,” Euphemia said knowingly with a sad smile, “I snuck out far more than you did your age. James had to get that trait somewhere. And I know you probably wouldn’t have done it on your own,”

Regulus blinked at this unexpected confession. 

Euphemia chuckled at the look on his face.

“Of course we want you to be fifteen. To be _kids_ ,” she said, eyes sparkling, “but our world is changing, faster than we could’ve ever imagined, and we want you to be safe through all of it.” 

Regulus nodded hesitantly, really looking at Euphemia, her dark hair pulled back and a kind, crooked smile just like James’s. There was nothing but compassion in her hazel eyes, something rare in the adults that Regulus knew. 

“It’s just hard,” Regulus whispered, feeling somehow drawn to her.

He couldn’t get any other words out, but Euphemia seemed to understand.

This year had been a whole host of unexpected happenings that he could never have predicted- his whole worldview getting shaken to the core.

“I like that boy,” Euphemia mentioned after a while, “that boy of yours,” 

Regulus just blushed, looking down. 

“Sorry. I know he and I,” Regulus said after a moment, “we’re- we’re _different_.”

“You ARE different,” Euphemia agreed, squeezing his hands, “for all the right reasons,”

Euphemia’s eyes were a bit watery, and Regulus could feel a lump growing in his throat. She patted his cheek. 

“Hold onto that, dear,” she advised him, “it’s part of what makes you wonderful. And we’ll be still here, I promise.” 

Regulus sighed shakily, reigning in his emotions. 

Euphemia smiled at him, sheepishly wiping her eyes. 

“One thing you’ll learn about us Potters,” Euphemia told him giggling, “we’re all criers. Even James, though he'd never say so.”

Regulus laughed, feeling a tiny bit of weight leave his shoulders.

Nothing was _sure_ anymore, but maybe it was all worth fighting for.

And with one look at the glimmer of pride in Euphemia's eyes, he knew he wanted to be worthy of the right sort of love. 


	20. Severus

_Oliver,_  
_I made it back to school!_  
_I think I’m starting to agree with you about the whole wand thing- I feel like I’m going to need eyes on the back of my head with my family watching._  
_I understand if you don’t write, after everything that’s happened._  
_I’m so sorry about everything- it’s my fault everything’s changing for you, with starting to learn magic along with all of your muggle courses._  
_I promise Euphemia- Mrs. Potter- is truly a wonderful person. She’ll be a great teacher, I promise, even if it's just a temporary thing._

_Just stay safe for me, alright?_

_Love,_  
_Regulus_

Regulus sighed. The week at the Potter’s had gone by in a flash- Charlus gone, presumably leading an investigation for the attack, and Euphemia at work. It had been a quiet, strange change- he had hardly seen anyone before he entered the snake den again. 

At least slipped back into the dining hall at a lunch hour, and no one was paying him much mind.  
Not even Sirius knew he was back, and he almost preferred it that way. 

"How are you?" 

Regulus looked up from the end of the Slytherin table at Snape, who was watching him with an unreadable expression. Regulus nodded, looking down at his hands, trembling as he picked up a spoon. He set it down quickly, putting his hands under the table. 

"I’m alright," Regulus answered shortly, unsure if Snape was just talking to him as a joke.

He pointedly ignored Evan Rosier, who was having a rather loud conversation down the table about how the Death Eaters were just trying to have a "political demonstration", which was quite possibly the stupidest thing he’d ever heard.

Had they even _seen_ that the Death eaters were torturing people?  
Had they _read_ that people's lives had been taken?

"How… have your classes been?" Snape continued calmly, as though talking with Regulus was a common occurrence. Snape glanced down the table at the giggling group of Slytherins, and then back at Regulus, watching him intently.

Regulus just shrugged, staring down at his soup at his warped reflection.  
"Just got back, so..." he mumbled.  
"So," Snape said, voice lowering, "I have some notes for you. Slughorn had me take them." 

Regulus opened his mouth, confused.  
"But... you’re not even in my year-"

"Black, just take it," Snape interrupted, dark eyes flashing in a warning. He pushed a couple of pieces of parchment across the table next to Regulus’s bowl.

"Thank you," Regulus said carefully, and Snape nodded, something penetrating in his gaze. He carefully picked up the parchment, staring at the neat handwritten Potions notes- something written in tiny, blue ink in the margins. 

_Go to the Room of Hidden Things_  
_10:00 p.m._

Regulus noticed, with a jolt, that it was the same handwriting as the note- the same writing that he’d found on that picture of him and Sirius on the very first day of school. Regulus looked up, confused, but Snape was already getting up, looking like he’d never talked to him in the first place.

***

Regulus tucked the notes safely into a notebook, walking through the halls like a soldier awaiting battle. One hand on the strap of his bag, the other on his pocket where his wand was. 

But nothing seemed to have changed as far as the general attitude of most Hogwarts students.

People were walking slowly in giggling groups, talking about mundane things like Charms homework and Quidditch teams, hardly noticing his tense demeanor. Nobody was talking about the attacks- probably because it was mostly muggles who were affected.

Not a lot of teenagers read the Prophet, after all, unless there was a particularly juicy piece of gossip.

That is, until he noticed a familiar redhead, sitting in a quiet alcove alone, looking preoccupied. He slowed in concern, noticing suddenly that tears were streaming down her face. 

He paused, feeling extremely awkward.  
The only time he’d even spoken to Lily Evans was the night that she had found him locked in a cupboard. 

But he owed her one. 

"Evans?" he said softly. Lily looked up, startled, wiping her eyes quickly.  
"Oh, hello Black," she whispered and looked down at her shoes, "um…"  
"I- Sorry," Regulus said, immediately fixing his eyes on a point over her shoulder, "um- I just wanted to thank you for the other night,"  
"Don’t mention it," Lily said quickly. 

Lily settled on the edge of the bench with a sigh, and after a moment, Regulus joined her. They watched the clumps of people walk past for a bit in companionable silence while Lily composed herself.

"Is everything alright?" Regulus asked finally.

Lily shrugged half-heartedly.  
"My Mum was injured," she confided softly, "in the attack on London. I guess I’m just worried." 

Regulus swallowed hard.   
He’d almost forgotten she was a muggle-born.

"They’re fine, though. I’m sure the Auror's will arrest those…death eaters... in no time," Lily said quickly, voice trembling. 

Regulus looked down at his hands, remembering Charlus’s desperate, agitated look.  
He didn’t think so.

"I understand," he said quietly. Lily looked up, with a strange, horrified expression on her face.  
"I’m sorry, I forgot you were there," she gasped, "Remus- I told him to keep an eye on you that night. Are you alright?"   
"Oh, I’m fine, really," Regulus replied awkwardly, hastily looking away. Lily opened her mouth to say something else, but their conversation was interrupted by a shout by a familiar voice. 

"Say that again, I dare you-" someone was saying dangerously.  
It was Sirius’s voice. 

Lily and Regulus shared a confused glance, standing quickly and moving toward the sound.

"I’ll say what I like, Black, muggle-lovers are getting what they deserve," came the taunting voice in return, "careful, even your blood-traitor brother is going to g-"

" _Levicorpus!_ " 

Regulus and Lily rounded the corner, to see Sirius jabbing his wand at Evan Rosier with a vindictive look on his face, who was suddenly hanging by his ankle, suspended in the air. Peter and James were gathered on a low bench across the way, looking unconcerned, absorbed in their conversation.

With the flick of Sirius’s wand, Rosier was spinning through the air at a rapid pace, yelping.

"Oh, for heaven’s sakes, not again-" Lily was saying something, marching toward the pair.

  
_Again?_

Regulus just stood there frozen- watching Rosier’s wand slipping out of his hand as he let out an undignified shout.

It felt like he was watching himself, wand slipping out of his fingers.

He felt like he was back in the tiny muggle shop, suspended by his ankle, completely helpless to the whims of a deranged murderer. 

He took a step back, but couldn’t pull his eyes away from Sirius, and the strange little smirk on his face.

Like he was enjoying it.

"Finite," Lily yelled, and Rosier was coming back down, tumbling back to the ground, swearing under his breath. He shouldered past Lily in an instant, making his way down the hall in the opposite direction without a second glance. 

"Oh, fuck off, Evans," Sirius snapped rudely, looking angrier than Regulus had seen him in a while, "you heard what he was saying. He deserved it."  
  
"Sirius, cool it," James said sharply at this, brown eyes sharp, a frown playing on his lips. Lily raised an eyebrow at the group.

"Oh, so now you chime in?" she said coolly. 

Regulus noticed that Remus was not part of the small cluster.

Regulus turned away from the group, heart in his throat.

They didn’t get it.

To them, it was all taking revenge in pranks, finishing their studies, Gryffindors versus Slytherins. 

It all was small enough for detention, house points, house feuds.

And that’s why Slytherins like Rosier would be joining Voldemort’s cause.

He took a step away, intent on leaving, before-

"Reg, you’re back-" Sirius was saying, impulsively touching his arm, and Regulus whipped out of his grip, facing him again. 

Sirius froze at the look on his face. 

"Did someone do something?" he asked automatically, something vengeful in the way he said it, as though he was eager to go after them.

And Regulus hated it.

He _hated_ that it reminded him of Walburga.

He _hated_ that it reminded him that this Sirius was a different one than the one he knew.

"You did, just now," Regulus said, peering over his shoulder at the James, now talking with a disapproving Lily, "why did you do that?" 

"What?" Sirius said blankly, "he was saying shit about us, I couldn’t just let him get away with that-"

"Yes, you could. There’s a reason that our family can... recruit him," Regulus cut in coldly, "that didn’t help."

Regulus was not ignorant of Sirius’s (and the rest of the Marauders) past bullying and teasing, especially with Severus Snape. 

This was by no means the worst mean-spirited prank Sirius and the boys had pulled-

He’d truly thought they’d grown out of it though.

Sirius looked defensive.

"You’re talking like it’s my fault they think like that," Sirius argued vehemently, "it’s their own choice if they want to follow that maniac."

"It wouldn’t have been my choice if I was pushed into it," Regulus explained tightly, "if I hadn’t left, _it wouldn’t have been my choice,_ you know how our family is. I don’t need you to give them more reasons to hate us, just use your words next time-" 

"You would have to be a completely different person to not leave that family," Sirius shot back, " _you wouldn’t be my brother._ " 

Regulus could have slapped him.

After all, he very nearly hadn’t left home.

And Sirius _knew_ how hard it was for him to leave.

' _You wouldn’t be my brother_ ’ was probably the cruelest thing Sirius could ever say to him.

Sirius’s mouth twisted into a frown, hand tightening on his wand, watching Regulus who seemed to be frozen.

Lily, who was making her way toward the two, evidently heard the conversation judging by a look of pure shock on her face, but Regulus just turned his heel and walked in the opposite direction. 

"Regulus," Sirius was calling after him in annoyance, "Regulus, don’t be so-"

"Don’t," Lily ordered Sirius sharply, before falling in step with Regulus. 

He felt a surge of admiration for the girl- she had stepped in, even though she was a muggle-born, and Rosier would probably cut off his arm before admitting that she helped him.

The two continued Regulus’s fast pace until they’d reached the same quiet alcove. 

Lily hovered next to him, looking a bit anxious.

"He’s letting them get to his head," Regulus said in frustration, rubbing the bridge of his nose, "I dislike their ideas too, but he doesn’t even care that he’s making it worse." 

Lily sighed.

"I think he does care," Lily said carefully, "we- we all care a bit too much about what everyone else is doing."

And if that wasn’t the kindest way of saying it that his brother was being a bully, he didn’t know what was.

***

Regulus checked his watch.

9:53 p.m.

He’d been avoiding James’s various attempts to make eye contact with him all day, even going so far as to turn down different hallways to avoid talking to him. He didn’t WANT to talk to Sirius yet- not after he said something that stupid.

_You wouldn’t be my brother._

Despite the fact that Sirius would always, _always_ be his. 

It also was a bit grating that Sirius himself wasn’t going to talk to him- only his friend’s worry would propel him to apologize. 

Regulus leaned on a wall with a sigh, wand in hand, looking at the stacks of knick-knacks, piles of aged books lined up in the dim, large room- the Room of Hidden Things. 

Now it was time to see if Snape would show up.

It was silent.

"Lumos," Regulus whispered, the light from the spell bouncing off the crevices of the piles of things, creating strange, sharp shadows.

“You shouldn’t do that,” a low voice came from behind, and Regulus turned around sharply to see Snape, “lets your enemies know your location in a second.” 

“Snape,” Regulus greeted coolly. He could see Snape’s beetle black eyes in the light, his wand light in his fingertips.

“What’s all this about?” Regulus said warningly. 

Snape took one, careful step forward. 

“What did the Dark Lord say,” he stated, “when he spared you?” 

There was only one reason he would know that Voldemort had come face to face with him. 

Regulus shifted into a defensive stance.

“You’re one of _them_ ,” Regulus said in surprise, “he’s recruited you.”

Snape was silent. 

Regulus couldn’t say he hadn’t seen it coming- but Snape just seemed so _clever._

Clever enough to see Voldemort for who he was.

Clever enough to see how irrational his ‘friends’ were being.

“Why?” Regulus whispered. Snape looked infinitely more tired and pale at this.

“I’ve been assigned to kill you,” Snape said after a long pause, putting his wand back in his pocket. 

Regulus's grip tightened on his wand.

“You hate me that much?” Regulus asked softly.

Snape shook his head minutely.

“The Dark Lord says you're dangerous,” Snape said automatically, not sounding like he believed his own words, “a dangerous idea for everyone else.” 

Regulus laughed sharply. 

That alone couldn't be enough reason for him to join.

"You can't believe that," he said in disbelief, " _I'm_ the key to everything going badly for purebloods?"

The ‘Dark Lord’ that mobilized 17-year-old’s against 15-year-old kids.

“You switched mentalities so quickly,” Snape hastened to reason with him, “to… the other side.”

“I didn’t switch anything,” Regulus interrupted vehemently, “I learned about muggles. I learned about how they think and who they are and... how fucked up our society is sometimes.” 

Regulus shook his head, pulling his wand arm down sharply.

“I don’t regret growing up pure, but honestly, you’d be a _fool_ to think that all muggle-borns deserve to die,” he said coldly. 

Snape twitched at this, a strange look in his eyes.

“I know,” he muttered. 

“Why are you doing this if you don’t think that?” Regulus asked again, and Snape seemed to be unraveling, his cool facade fading and giving way to troubled anger.

“Your brother,” Snape said tiredly, “I wanted to hurt him. And killing you...I thought...” 

That had been the last thing Regulus had expected. Snape ran a hand through his hair agitatedly.

“But I can’t kill you,” he whispered, “I just... _can't._ ”

“Whatever Sirius did to you,” Regulus finally said through his shock, “do you think every muggle should pay for that? Every muggle-born?” 

Snape seemed to be frozen. 

“Just look at… I don’t know- Lily Evans,” Regulus snapped, the redhead randomly popping into his head, “her mother was injured in the London raids- you cannot look me in the eyes and tell me that she deserved that.”

“Rose?” Snape gasped finally, looking haunted. 

“Who?” Regulus asked, and at Snape’s nonresponse he kept going, “killing my brother, or me… that’ll just get you landed in Azkaban, and everyone will think that Sirius is- was the good guy.” 

Sirius.

_Kind, protective, funny Sirius._

What on earth did he do to make Snape hate him so much?

Regulus swallowed hard.

"If you haven't come to kill me," he said slowly, "why are you here?"

Snape took a deep breath, seeming to come to a decision.

"I found something," he said quietly, "something that might bring him down."

With trembling hands, he pulled out from his bag a strange, shimmering tiara with curiously blue jewels.

"It's- it's a Horcrux," he said, the word wrenched out of his mouth, "I don't know what it is, but I know it's dark. I overheard something about this… thing... being linked to him. And I- I found it. In this room."

Regulus looked around covertly, and suddenly the so-called meaningless junk seemed limitlessly mysterious. 

_Horcruxes._

Certainly not something he'd ever heard of- though the name sounded vaguely familiar- perhaps something he'd read about in the Black archives.

"Take it," Snape ordered softly, pressing it in his hands, "They'll kill me if they knew."

"What- hang on, what are you doing?" Regulus spluttered, “why me? The Aurors will still ask questions if I give it to them-” 

"Black," Snape said, dead serious, "I can't leave. If you can’t get it to someone, I need you to hold onto it for me, please. They're all watching me."

Regulus sighed.

So there _had_ been a reason Snape always seemed to be lurking around.

_My assignment was to kill you._

"Snape," he said tiredly, "swear on your magic that you're telling the truth."

Snape took in a shaky breath, looking as desperate as Regulus felt.

"I swear on my magic," he said formally, and the room seemed to chill a fraction. The two stood for a moment, just staring at each other- the significance of the words not lost on either of them.

"I'll keep your secret," Regulus declared, carefully slipping the strange diadem into his satchel, “but _promise me_ you’ll figure out your way out of this.”

Snape swallowed, twitching, but nodded jerkily. 

“I- I promise,” he said softly, “... be careful, Black.” 

And with that, he swept out of the room, disappearing into the dark halls with practiced ease. Regulus shivered.

Whatever it was, this Horcrux business seemed far more serious than he had thought.

But the first thing that caught his mind was what had his brother done that had been so horrible that it had driven Snape to _kill_ him?

He had to get to the bottom of it.


	21. Diadem

_Dear Regulus,_   
_You have nothing to be sorry for- it’s not your fault that some wizards are insane. Sure, it’s a bit unexpected to be learning magic, but then again, the whole werewolf bit was unexpected for me too. _

_I’m used to it by now. Life tends to throw me a curveball every couple of years, so I wouldn’t dwell on it. My brother won’t stop grilling me about you though- prepare yourself for an overprotective, embarrassing speech when you meet him- Now THAT’S something worth apologizing for._

_It’ll take a lot more than a few rogue wizards for me to stop writing._

_Love,_   
_Oliver_

***

_Regulus,_

_The way you talk about your family- I know there’s a lot you don’t say. Mrs. Potter won’t tell me much either, about the news and all that, but I can tell she’s worried. You should write to her._   
_I would call you if Hogwarts wasn’t so silly and didn’t have telephones._

_Love,_   
_Oliver_

***

_Regulus,_

_I’ll say it straight- I’m a little worried._   
_I know, I hate when people do that to me-_

_I don’t want to be that clingy person, but please reply if you’ve received this?_

_Oliver_

_***_

It had been two weeks. 

Two weeks since the wizarding world had witnessed the most blatant attack on muggles in Modern history. 

Two weeks since he’d received Oliver’s letters, and still hadn’t replied- feeling paranoid and terrified of what could happen to him if he did.

Two weeks that the ‘Horcrux’ had sat in his bag, feeling heavier and heavier, and more and more strange. 

He had the strange inclination to take it with him everywhere, not trusting hiding it somewhere in the dorm- it had a weird allure to it, despite its obvious darkness- something that agitated Regulus to no end.

It was like not being able to look away from something you knew was a train-wreck.

Still, there it sat, tucked away in his bag.

Every day, Regulus ignored his brother (who seemed perfectly content ignoring him too), and instead gobbled up the headlines, scanning the papers for any sign of wrongdoing. Any sign that Voldemort was near, coming up with nothing. 

**Minister Calls for Strict Monitoring of Muggle London**

**The Hunt for Death Eaters Falls Short**

But it was a small, bold headline below those that made his heart jump to his throat. It was that headline that sparked the murmur of conversation at the Slytherin table.

It wasn’t a gossip column this time.

**House of Black: Allegations of Child Abuse?**   
_By Intern Rita Skeeter_

_Orion and Walburga Black called into question for their possible involvement in the London attacks- but what you may not know is that part of their case is at a standstill, particularly for the treatment of their youngest son, Regulus Black._

_If you’ll recall in my last article, Ministry Official Orion Black claimed that their sons have been brainwashed by the dangerous company they keep. In memories shown to the court, Mrs. Black is seen performing an Unforgivable curse on their son, Regulus Black. However, the memory’s validity seems to be called into question-_

He felt like he was going to throw up, unable to read any further. 

Wasn’t this sort of thing illegal? 

Having the press at an active case, viewing his private memories, and reporting on the details?

“Scared of your dear old mum, are you?” a voice was floating down the table tauntingly, but he couldn’t even bring himself to look up. 

Someone was giggling.

He felt thoroughly betrayed. 

Charlus had _said_ the case was private.

He looked up, across the Hall, willing Sirius to meet his eyes. 

But he didn’t.

Even as he stared at him a full minute, Sirius was talking to James and Peter, all three talking animatedly.

He could see Remus, though, staring straight back at him. 

Silent. 

It was unsettling, how quickly Sirius could write him out of his story.

Regulus got up minutely, ready to bolt out of the hall before-

“Black,” Snape was saying, but his voice seemed to float over the blood rushing into his ears, “ _Black._ ”

He looked up. 

Snape was sitting across from him, a grim look on his pale face. He nodded discreetly to the other end of the table. After a long moment, Regulus spared them a glance- his family and classmates all watching him. 

Waiting for him to fall apart.

Regulus took a deep, shuddering breath, sitting down stiffly, and looking back up at Snape, who’s dark look intensified. Regulus got the message loud and clear.

_Don’t give them the satisfaction._

No, he wouldn’t ever be like his brother, the proud bully. 

He wouldn’t even be like Snape, the vengeful assassin. 

He’d been mistaken, thinking he could fit in somewhere.

He was Regulus Black.

He had to have his own back first.

***

_Regulus,_   
_I’m assuming you’ve read the Prophet- I am so, so sorry this has happened, this reporter was completely independent of the investigation._

_This information was extremely confidential, and we have no idea who leaked the information or how they were present in the courtroom, but I am doing everything I can to find them._

_Please let me, or even Euphemia, know how you’re doing!_   
_Charlus_

Regulus barely made him way through the letter that had arrived shortly after breakfast before crumpling it in his fist. 

No matter what he said, it still was _out there_ , for everyone to see. 

He shoved the balled up paper into his bag, fingertips brushing over the gems of the diadem in one of the pockets, cold disappointment sharp in his veins. 

Charlus had broken his promise. 

“...Mr. Black, let’s see what you have so far,” Slughorn said jovially, peering over his cauldron at the bubbling pink liquid.

“It could be a shade lighter, but very well done,” he said dotingly, clapping Regulus on the shoulder.

Regulus grimaced at Slughorn’s paternal expression, barely summoning a polite nod. 

“Mr. Black,” he started, voice quieting slightly, “just know if you ever _need_ anything, feel free to drop by my office-”

“I’m fine, sir,” Regulus said tersely, flushing at the implication that Slughorn, of all people, had read the stupid article. 

“I mean it,” Slughorn continued meaningfully, “as one of my brightest students, you are more than welcome to speak to me on any matter you wish…” 

The rest of his speech seemed to filter out due to Regulus's steadily increasing annoyance.

He curled his fingers around the diadem tightly in his bag, feeling an uncharacteristic surge of anger following the action. 

“I really couldn’t care less what you think, _sir,_ ” Regulus snapped angrily before he could think about it, “I doubt you’d be much help to anyone anyway.”

The entire class quieted, looking at him in shock. 

Slughorn himself looked rather affronted, and just a tinge worried- and it was at that moment that Regulus realized he had stood up and that his stool had toppled over in the process. 

And then the surge of anger was gone, as quickly as it came, and he stood there, mortified. 

Why on earth had he been so _angry?_

He took his hand out of his bag, pulling the strap over his head.

“Mr. Black,” Slughorn started, but Regulus was already out the door, jogging through the halls until he’d reached the Quidditch pitch, breathing in the cold, crisp air, mind racing. 

What was _wrong_ with him? 

He never got angry at people like that.

Especially with Slughorn- who was annoying, but seemed to genuinely want to help.

He sank to the ground, taking a deep breath, before taking out the diadem, observing it with a critical eye. It shimmered innocently in the light. 

_Too innocently._

He set it carefully back in the bag, opting to crouch down, pick up a good size rock, turning it over in his hand experimentally, before hurling it as hard as he could. It met the metal bleachers with a resounding clang.

“Dammit,” Regulus muttered to himself, silently wondering if he was as ‘unhinged’ as that reporter had made him out to be.

“You feel it too,” a voice was saying softly. 

Regulus turned around to see Snape, standing and watching him knowingly. 

“What?” he snapped, not knowing how he would react if someone else talked to him about the article.

“The darkness,” Snape said cryptically, jerking his head toward the bag. 

Regulus sighed.

Riddles were exactly what he didn’t need.

“Just go.” Regulus retorted, crossing his arms, but Snape shook his head.

“Stop for a second and think about it,” Snape ordered, “that… thing in the bag.” 

And after a moment’s examination, Regulus could feel it- the strange, uneasy feeling curling around his chest as he looked at the bag where the Horcrux was. Almost like it was trying to take over a part of his mind.

Regulus took a step away from it, unnerved.

“I don’t know what to do with it, or what it is,” Regulus said exasperatedly, voice breaking, “why did you choose me for this?” 

Snape took a hesitant step forward, looking reluctant but determined. 

“Don’t carry it around with you,” Snape ordered jerkily instead of answering, “we can store it in the room again- I just meant-” 

Snape sighed at Regulus’s unimpressed look at his poor attempt at changing the subject.

“You’re clever,” Snape answered reluctantly, “and you’re the only person I can trust with this. You know how we work.” 

_We._

It was such a strange concept.

Given that Snape was supposed to be killing him.

Regulus twitched.

This really wasn’t a ‘we’ moment.

“We’re not friends,” he stated coldly.

“I know.” Snape replied, unbothered, “but you’re your own person. And… that’s rare, nowadays.” 

Snape looked up at the sky, closed off again, with a regretful look on his face. 

“You are too,” Regulus said sharply, not in any mood to comfort anybody, “don’t act like you aren’t, Snape. You made the choices that got you here.” 

Snape snorted, a tiny flicker of respect in his gaze.

“I just followed along,” he said softly. 

Regulus just shrugged tiredly.

Snape was here now, and he was still alive, after all.

“Regulus?” another voice was nearing. Regulus threw up his hands in exasperation, turning around to see Remus Lupin. Both him and Snape froze at the sight of each other, an unreadable expression on Remus’s face.

“Let me know if you need more notes,” Snape lied instantly to Regulus, expression flattening. He slipped away without another word.

It was rather disconcerting how fast he could supplement an excuse.

He could see why Voldemort wanted him.

Regulus watched him as he made his way back to the school, quietly crunching through the dead leaves, before turning to Remus, who looked confused.

“You’re friends with him?” Remus asked curiously. Regulus snatched up his bag, irked at the sudden knowledge that the damned Horcrux was trying to control how he was feeling too.

He had to store it somewhere, and fast. 

“No, but it really shouldn’t matter if I was,” Regulus replied shortly, “if Sirius or James is making you talk to me because of that stupid article-”

“They’re not,” Remus cut in placatingly, “they don’t even know I’m here.” 

Regulus scoffed, looking down at his shoes.

“Well that’s nice and all,” Regulus said disbelievingly, “but I’m still not going to talk to him.”

Remus nodded gamely, and Regulus mentally prepared himself for Remus’s persistent loyalty to the two before-

“Then don’t talk to him,” Remus said soundly, “be mad at him for a while. Maybe it’ll get into that thick skull of his.” 

Regulus looked up, a bit taken aback at his sharp words. 

There was a small smile playing on Remus’s lips as he watched him. 

“You gonna skip class?” Remus asked knowingly. Regulus shrugged noncommittally, flushing.   
Remus was a prefect, after all.

“Well, I am too,” Remus said, starting into the Forbidden forest.

And so the two silently made their way into the forest, a bed of leaves to crunch through- sunlight streaming through the trees and bathing Remus in a wash of gold. He walked through the forest, a tranquil look on his face, effortlessly weaving through the brush as Regulus trailed behind him. 

“Sirius did something to me,” Remus told him suddenly, “in fact… I don’t think I would have forgiven him if I hadn’t…”

He paused, closing his eyes. 

Curiosity and dread swirled in Regulus’s stomach.

Just how many people have been caught in the crossfire of Sirius’s pride?

“He used my… condition,” Remus continued levelly, “to try and prank someone. And if James hadn’t stepped in, I probably would’ ve- would’ve attacked that person.” 

Regulus gasped, mind racing with horrific possibilities. 

That scenario could have ended in bloodshed, for everyone.

Not to mention Remus would be terrorized for the rest of his life. 

“How could he _do_ that?” Regulus exclaimed, horrified.

He tried to imagine using Oliver as a “prank”, but the idea just seemed… horrible. 

Even before he knew much about werewolves, the idea was excessive.

“Why- why are you still friends?” Regulus asked, head spinning with the knowledge that his brother had attempted to use one of his friends in such a terrible way- knowing full well that Remus couldn't control himself.

Remus leaned against a tree, seeming to gauge his reaction. 

“Because we love him,” he stated quietly, “the Sirius that we know.”

Regulus closed his mouth with a click at the depth of emotion behind Remus’s words. 

Remus set a hand on Regulus’s shoulder. 

“Your Sirius,” Remus stated softly, “he’s different because he loves you.” 

Regulus shook his head, mouth twitching at the word ‘love’. 

Sirius felt _obligated_ to help him, as the older brother.

He couldn’t remember a time when they’d told each other they’d loved one another- that would just be strange.

But there was something so earnest in Remus’s tone, that he found himself questioning his thoughts.

“But- why do _you_ love him? After everything that he’s done?” Regulus asked quietly, still at a loss to understand Remus’s forgiveness. 

Remus shifted thoughtfully.

“I love how he’s been there for me,” Remus said hesitantly, looking for the first time a bit shy, “I love how he remembers the little things about… what I like. Um… I love how much he loves his friends, his stupid jokes, the way he knows things without asking…”

Remus blushed, seeming to realize he was going off on a tangent, but the image froze in Regulus’s mind- Remus’s wide-eyed, loving gaze as he talked about his brother.

Something deeper than he’d imagined.

Something that Remus himself might not know was there.

Remus cleared his throat.

“Anyway,” he continued awkwardly, “it’s just him, you know? There’s our Sirius and then there’s just… Sirius Orion Black.” 

Regulus nodded slowly. 

Strangely, he understood what Remus was getting at.

It seemed that in his vehemence to NOT be “Sirius Orion Black”, Sirius had thrown himself into rejecting everything that even suggested that he was like them- ironically, through how a typical Black would do it.

He _was_ like them. 

He was proud, prideful, and never took anything from anybody that disagreed. 

“It was how we grew up, he and I,” Regulus admitted reluctantly, “but… it still shouldn’t be an excuse.” 

“I know,” Remus replied softly, “just know that… that’s why he needs us to knock some sense into him sometimes.” 

Regulus couldn’t help but laugh at that, something loosening in his chest.

Remus seemed kinder than he’d ever expected- to be able to forgive someone for doing something so… thoughtless.

“He honestly doesn’t know that he’s crossed a line,” Remus said, shaking his head, “so... you shouldn't just ignore him. He won’t notice if you’re… _polite mad_.”

“'Polite mad'?” Regulus repeated drily, “you sound like you’re speaking from experience.” 

Remus just rolled his eyes, settling down on a rock. 

“Hate to break it to you, but your brother is a bit of an idiot at times,” he remarked, raising an eyebrow, “a lovable idiot.”

“That he is,” Regulus replied softly, settling down across from him, watching Remus crack open a book, offered Regulus some food he had in his back, and settled into a comfortable rhythm with him. For the first time, the darkness of the Horcrux and the stresses of the article seemed to peel away. 

Whatever it was, Sirius was far luckier than he knew to have someone like Remus still at his side. 

***

That night, he tucked the diadem deep in his trunk, setting it under his bed, but wishing he could just hurl the thing away from him, much like he’d thrown that rock.

 _You’re your own person_ , Snape had said. 

But Regulus hardly knew who that was without his family- and for all the bravado, it seemed that Sirius hardly knew either.


	22. Clues

_Regulus,_  
_Mrs. Potter showed me the article that came out. Are you alright?_  
_I get it if you don’t want to talk about it but know that I’m here if you want to write._

_Remus has been writing to me, asking me about how the most recent moon was- thank him if you see him, he sent a letter with some healing balm that’s working wonders! He mentioned you and your brother are fighting?_

_Since no one else seems to be saying it, I’m sorry. I know you’re not the type to go looking for chaos, and it seems like you can’t escape it. On another note, I think half my school thinks I’m part of some gang because I’ve been disappearing so often (either because of the full moons or because I'm learning magic)._

_So… I think we can collectively agree that people are stupid and should mind their own business._

_(Write back when you’re ready, but I might just have to bite the bullet and learn how to do that terrifying-looking fire-travel if you don’t)_

_All the best,_  
_Oliver_

***

  
There was absolutely nothing about Horcruxes in the Hogwarts library.

After having spent an entire day there (necessitating Madam Pince to kick him out at the end of the day), Regulus’s mind was teeming with every type of curse with strange reactions on ancient artifacts that he could scrape together.

But nothing seemed to fit. 

One night, in a fit of frustration, he had simply tried a quick ‘obstructo’, expecting the horrible, cursed thing to burst into a thousand pieces- but it didn’t budge- glimmering innocently from where it sat. It didn’t react to ‘diffindo’, ‘confringo’, or any other variation of the spell either. 

It was infuriating. 

It sat, undisturbed by Regulus’s efforts, in a quiet corner of the Room of Hidden Things and perpetually in the darkest depths of his mind.

It’s linked to Voldemort.

  
Was it… possession?

It wasn’t unheard of, but it seemed inconvenient to be trying to possess a diadem of all things. 

Why not a living creature, or another person?

At a standstill, he took to obsessively researching Voldemort- the mysterious, strange figurehead of an even more mysterious movement- but it didn’t seem like such a name existed in any records.

_Resignation of Minister Leach following Wife’s Mysterious Poisoning_  
_Abraxas Malfoy to Take up the Helm of Minister_  
_Muggleborn Publication ‘the Mugwort’ Discontinued_

“Mr. Black? Your essay, please?” 

Regulus looked up from the newspaper to see Professor McGonagall, with a stern look on her face. Regulus rooted around for a bit before pulling out his slightly crumpled essay that he’d cobbled together the night prior. 

It was not up to his usual standards, and they both knew it.

Professor McGonagall took it, glancing at it, before folding it crisply. Students streamed by, leaving the class in groups until the door shut behind them. 

It was silent again.  
Regulus squirmed under her knowing stare.

“I’ve noticed you’ve been taking quite an interest in the news in place of my class,” McGonagall remarked questioningly, eyes flicking to the newspaper.

“I’m sorry, Professor.” Regulus said detachedly, shoving the newspaper into his bag, “I’ll be sure to pay attention more.”

The classroom was empty now, the two silent for a moment. McGonagall set his essay on the top of a teetering pile with a strange look on her face.

“I was informed of what happened with Professor Slughorn,” McGonagall said finally, “following that… article’s publication.”

Regulus sighed, feeling more exhausted by the second. At least McGonagall had the good sense to talk to him about this when the whole class wasn’t watching.

“I… didn’t mean to be rude,” Regulus explained awkwardly, “I think I was just having a bad day.”

“It’s quite alright,” McGonagall cut in crisply, “Horace can be… a bit overzealous sometimes. Especially with exemplary students like you.” 

Regulus nodded, blushing a bit at the unexpected compliment.

_Overzealous was certainly a kind word for it._

“He means nothing by it,” McGonagall said gently. Regulus nodded apologetically. He’d never talked to McGonagall one on one- he had never had the reason to, her being the head of Gryffindor, but she seemed more observant than he’d originally thought. 

“I... was also informed that you and your brother are no longer living with your parents,” she told him gently.

Regulus ducked his head, feeling supremely uncomfortable that the staff had probably talked about his outburst, and the article itself. 

“I may not be your Head of House,” McGonagall continued, with an air of professionalism, “but if you require any extra support, let any of us know.” 

“Right,” Regulus responded quickly, already halfway out of his seat.

“Professor Slughorn told me to give you this,” she continued, brandishing a small slip of paper toward him.

Regulus took it hesitantly, staring down at the curly writing.

_Please come to my office at 11:00._  
_You are excused from your next class._  
_Professor Slughorn_

Regulus winced. 

“I’d- I’d better go apologize,” he muttered, flustered, slipping the paper in his pocket. McGonagall nodded a note of concern in her eyes.

“Mr. Black,” McGonagall called after him, “do take care of yourself.”

Regulus nodded with a more genuine smile.

  
***

“Professor Slughorn?” Regulus called out unenthusiastically, gripping the paper at his fingertips. The office had always looked a bit strange to him- Slughorn had the habit of lining up every award a Slytherin had ever achieved on the walls on shiny plaques, and it was a rather intimidating sight. 

Regulus gulped, looking up at the long row of ‘Black’ plaques.

“Ah, Mr. Black,” Slughorn greeted, materializing from a corner and making Regulus jump, “do have a seat.” 

Regulus settled into a plush chair cautiously. 

“Professor, I’m sorry about-” Regulus started after an awkward silence, but Slughorn just waved a pudgy hand.

“Nonsense, you need not apologize, my boy,” Slughorn said benevolently, settling behind his desk and absentmindedly smoothing the papers on it.

“I was just rather surprised- the Blacks have always been my brightest students- clever, understanding things in a flash,” Slughorn informed wistfully, a remorseful, faraway look in his eye and Regulus sank into his chair, “they’re always a bit more... loud though, quite like your brother. You were always more… quiet. Talented, yes, but I suppose I should have-”

“Professor Slughorn,” Regulus interrupted tightly. 

Slughorn seemed to shake out of his reverie. 

“Of course, of course,” Slughorn said placatingly, clearing his throat, flustered, and seeming to notice the awkwardness his words had created, “I only want you to know that Slytherin is also your home. And that you can feel welcome to talk to me about anything- whether it be academic or… personal.”

Regulus very nearly burst into a laugh.

Slytherin was not what a home should be, at least not at the moment. 

“Thank you,” he said quietly, inwardly wishing he’d just ignored the note and gone to his next class. The two sat for a moment in awkward silence.

“Terrible isn’t it,” Slughorn said quietly, motioning to the newspaper with a dark look on his face. Regulus could see the big, upside-down writing- ‘ _The Hunt for Voldemort Continues_ ’

“Do you know him? Voldemort?” Regulus asked on a whim, feeling a bit desperate at the whole mystery. Slughorn looked rather startled at the question.

“Know him-” he spluttered, affronted, face steadily turning redder, “why, I don’t even know what he looks like! _Nobody_ does. I don’t think-”

“Sorry sir, you misunderstood,” Regulus interrupted quickly, “um… it’s just. I was at the attacks and… saw him. He looked young enough, and I was just wondering if you taught him- sorry.”

Slughorn drew in a breath, seeming to collect himself again.

“Indeed,” Slughorn said, looking both concerned and relieved at the confession, “he’s… a young man then?” 

Regulus nodded, fixing his gaze on the paper. 

“He looked sort of young- dark hair, about my height,” he said softly, “if I saw him on the street, he’d look charming enough... for me to not give him a second glance.” 

“Charming, you say,” Slughorn said, something darkening in his tone.

Regulus looked up- Slughorn’s eyes were sharp and alert, and he was fixing Regulus was an unreadable look. 

“Of course I don’t agree with him,” Regulus reassured him quickly, “it is horrible, what he’s doing. What I’m saying is that… he seems like the sort of man that could manipulate people.” 

Regulus sighed, not knowing how to approach the idea of Voldemort. Even in the briefest contact, he’d had with him- even in the setting of torture and horror, Voldemort seemed unswayed. 

Collected. 

At ease. 

Like he was playing a game of chess rather than playing with people’s lives.

“He thinks like a Slytherin,” Regulus finished dully.

Slughorn twitched at this, looking more uncomfortable by the second- a haunted look in his eyes.

Regulus blinked at him- he’d never seen Slughorn so on edge.

But, then again, the attacks were a difficult topic for a lot of people. 

“Sorry,” Regulus said awkwardly, clutching his arms self-consciously, “never mind. I actually… had a more academic question for you. Since you… you know… said I could talk to you about that stuff.” 

Slughorn gave Regulus a strained smile, looking pleased at the distraction.

“Anything, Mr. Black. This year is a big one for you, especially with your O.W.L’s coming up,” he replied.

“Actually, it’s for a project. I was having trouble finding information in the library,” Regulus invented quickly, “I was doing a personal report, you see, on different dark artifacts- I’m thinking of curse breaking in the future...” 

“-An _admirable_ career indeed-”

“...And I was wondering if you knew anything about Horcruxes?” 

There was a long silence. 

Regulus sat with bated breath, watching as the color seemed to drain from Slughorn’s face. 

Regulus swallowed, leaning forward minutely.

“Sir?” he prodded hesitantly, but Slughorn stood up abruptly, looking shaken.

“That- he couldn’t have-” Slughorn muttered to himself jerkily. 

Slughorn whirled around, Regulus flinching back in surprise.

“Where did you hear that word?” Slughorn interrogated him, eyes wide and fearful.

“Um…I just heard someone talking about it,” Regulus answered vaguely, edging out of his seat, “I was just curious.” 

“This is all... curiosity? Nothing more?” Slughorn asked suspiciously, hand drifting agitatedly toward his wand. 

“...yes,” Regulus said questioningly, “I’m sorry if I… offended you, sir. I don’t know what it is.” 

Slughorn sat down, putting a hand to his heart.

“You’re better off not knowing,” he said finally, looking disturbed, “there are some things that shouldn’t be meddled with, especially a human soul-” 

“A human soul?” Regulus latched onto the word instantly, with a jolt of horror. 

“Never mind that, Mr. Black, never mind that,” Slughorn said gruffly, “I- I suggest changing your object of research to another topic. Perhaps that Dark artifact they found in Siberia last year-”

“But-” Regulus started, mind whizzing with possibilities, but Slughorn was already ushering him toward the door in a stream of nervous goodbyes, and Regulus was left, staring at the door so abruptly slammed shut in his face.

But there it was- a clue.  
Slughorn had recognized something about this Voldemort- who was meddling with human souls.

***

Soul magic was a tricky business. 

The fact that Voldemort was ‘linked’ to this object meant a bit of his soul was residing in it. Or at least, that’s the only thing that Regulus could make sense of. 

But why?

And how could he destroy it?

“Hey.” 

Regulus glanced up from his copious newspaper clippings and notes in the library to raise an eyebrow at Sirius, standing awkwardly in front of him. 

“You… doing some research?” Sirius asked, sitting down in front of him. Regulus closed his notebook with a snap. 

“Why are you talking to me?” he said tartly. Sirius shrugged, looking a bit confused.

“Because I want to,” he replied softly. Sirius sighed at Regulus’s unimpressed stare.

Sirius chewed on his lip, looking more and more out of his depth.

“Because Remus mentioned… that I might have been out of the line?”

Regulus crossed his arms, willing the universe to grant him patience.

“You’re not going to apologize?” Regulus asked calmly, putting the book in his bag. Sirius twitched.

“No,” Sirius said crossly, “Reg, I did what I did for a reason,” 

“Then we don’t have anything to talk about,” Regulus stated coolly, standing up and starting out of the library.

Remus’s words floated back to him. 

_He honestly doesn’t know that he’s crossed a line_  
_You shouldn't just ignore him. He won’t notice if you’re… polite mad._

“What- why?” Sirius asked exasperatedly, trying to keep up with the pace Regulus set down the hall, “I don’t get why you’re mad, that idiot deserved it-” 

“I’m not talking about Rosier,” Regulus snapped, stopping abruptly and turning to face a startled Sirius, “I’m talking about you.”

Sirius blinked at him, looking honestly surprised.

But he didn’t move.

“I can't lose you,” Regulus said truthfully, throat tight.

Sirius’s eyes crinkled in confusion. 

“You’re not going to lose me,” Sirius reassured him quietly, “of course you’re not going to lose me.”

Regulus scoffed, shaking his head. _That’s_ what he’d had to say after two weeks of silence?

“Hey,” Sirius whispered uneasily, tentatively putting a hand on his shoulder. 

“We hate them,” Regulus cut in quietly, “what our parents… what those death eaters did.” 

Sirius nodded slowly. 

Regulus took a deep breath.

“I’m not… bad though, right?” Regulus asked Sirius levelly. 

Sirius shook his head vehemently.

“You’re _nothing_ like them,” Sirius said immediately, a sour look on his face, “of course you’re not.”

Regulus smiled faintly.

“But I am,” Regulus said softly, “I am like them, sometimes.” 

Sirius opened his mouth, looking ready to argue with him but Regulus talked over him.

“Everything I’ve been taught,” Regulus explained quickly, “how to talk to people, how to negotiate, what sorts of friends to have… how to- I don’t know- do those stupid pureblood ballroom dances.”

Sirius snorted at that, something softening in his eyes.

“I can try and unlearn it,” Regulus said rubbing his nose, “and- and- I think I’m doing a good job of it, but I _still_ fuck up. When Oliver told me he was a werewolf, there was a moment where I- I was scared. Just for a second. I don’t know…” 

Regulus shook his head, feeling rather ashamed of his snap-judgment thoughts before he’d learned about the muggle world.

“The point is- I see them in you too sometimes,” Regulus said tiredly, “and it scares me. Because it’s part of us, and me. I'm- we're not perfect, and I need you to see that.” 

Regulus waited patiently, for Sirius to snap back like he always did when the parents were mentioned. 

To explode in a fit of anger.

“I get it,” Sirius said instead, seeming to sag as Regulus continued to look at him. 

Regulus nodded

The two continued walking, slower now.

“Me and Mum,” Sirius said unexpectedly, “The older teachers always… compare us. We’re similar, I guess- the same personality. Always fucking hated it.” 

Sirius sighed.

“I- I don’t like it. And I guess I just want to be far away. From her. But I guess… cursing him like that... even though the prick deserved it...” 

Regulus blinked.

Sirius had always been the furthest thing he could think of from that woman, far further than Regulus, especially in what he believed.

Different in the ways that matter.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you,” Sirius said finally, “when the article came out. I just- I just get so angry sometimes, and say stuff I don’t mean…” 

Sirius seemed to struggle for words.

“I’m not angry at _you_ ,” he said honestly. 

“Sirius,” Regulus said reproachfully.

Sirius swallowed hard, a stubborn look in his eye.

“I just don’t know what the fuck is wrong with me sometimes- after everything that happened in London when you needed me most-” he said sharply, running a hand through his hair, “I- I don’t know.”

Regulus bit his lip, seeing exactly where Sirius’s mind was going.

“You’re not her,” Regulus said soundly, “you’re not.” 

“I’ve done some fucked up things, Reg, to you- to my friends...” Sirius sighed, closing his eyes.

Regulus was sure that Sirius was thinking of Remus- of the ‘prank’ he’d attempted to pull. 

But Remus had forgiven him.

Regulus could too.

“Sirius,” he said quietly, “You are like her. I am too. But you’re a far better person than she’ll ever be.”

Sirius nodded solemnly, looking tired. 

“We’re just... more complicated sometimes,” Regulus said comfortingly, “and that’s alright.”

Sirius snorted.

“We’re just shit at being normal brothers is what you’re saying,” he said rolling his eyes, but Regulus could see a tinge of insecurity lingering under his smile.

“Of course we are,” Regulus said rolling his eyes, “but we’re trying.”

Sirius broke into a smile at this, eyes shining, and suddenly Regulus understood why Remus had forgiven Sirius so quickly. 

“Remus tipped you off then, that I was mad?” Regulus said, rather amused at Remus’s determination to get the two to talk.

“Yeah,” Sirius said reproachfully, “he’s told me I should stop ignoring you. But I thought _you_ were ignoring me!”

“You… didn’t see me looking at you,” Regulus clarified, resisting the urge to facepalm. 

At Sirius’s blank look, Regulus just shook his head.

“Never mind,” he muttered, snickering at his obliviousness, “ _Sirius…”_

There was a reason they were in different houses.

“What did I do now?”

Sure, they would probably never outright say ‘ _I love you_ ’ to one another- but Regulus could see what Remus had meant. 

_He’s different because he loves you._

Because this was the Sirius that was impossible to be angry at. 

The Sirius that led from his heart.


	23. Dark Magic

Walburga had been right. 

Learning the value of a curse had its upsides- because Regulus, who had now been the victim of the Cruciatus curse twice too many times, knew that some degree of darkness was required to destroy something of such sentience. 

The piece of Voldemort’s soul, writhing with a deep sense of evil, made him wonder if the man was even human.

The mere thought of instilling a piece of oneself into an object seemed so… wrong. 

So, in the dead of night, alone in the Room of Hidden Things, Regulus stood uneasily over the diadem, trying every curse he knew to destroy it- even delving deep into the curses that Walburga had insisted on him studying, long ago in the depths of the dusty Black library. 

_Aperta ignis_

_Destruo_

_Interficio_

_Dectrusto..._

A long list of questionable spells later, Regulus was still at a loss- two-weeks worth of frustration steadily building at the diadem’s stubbornness to break. There was something sinister about it all- something was deeply wrong. 

_Get it together, Black._

Regulus took a deep, steadying breath, stumbling back to his feet and walking away for a moment, trying to clear his head. He thought of Snape- the look of desperation in his eyes as he pinned his hopes on Regulus carrying out this one task. 

_“You’re clever, you’re the only person I can trust with this. You know how we work.”_

Regulus nodded to himself, forcing his mind back to the detailed list of spells. 

“Lumos,” Regulus whispered, and the room illuminated once more- a hush of comforting silence and warm light. He stepped toward the diadem, stomach twisting, scraping through his memories, searching for anything that might work. 

There was _Fiendfyre_ , of course, but it was far too uncontrollable for such a confined space, especially since he’d never cast it before- he would need something far more precise.

Controlled.

No one would be here to witness it- his momentary lapse to darkness. 

The shiny silver gleamed, drawing him in, cold and unwavering. 

He wanted desperately for it all to be over.

He wanted to go back to feeling _normal_ \- whatever that was.

There was a faint ringing in his ears, the part of him screaming to walk away- to forget the whole thing, but something swathed in darkness held him still. 

_Do it_ , his mother’s voice rang sharply in his ear, _do it now._

“Avada kedavra,” he muttered quickly, paranoid that someone would hear him, but nothing happened. 

The so-called 'forbidden words' were, indeed, just words with no particular feeling behind him. 

He thought, again, of his mother. 

Beady eyes watching him intently.

Watching him try, and fail, to burn Sirius’s name. 

The blinding pain of it all.

_'With feeling.'_ she would say.

“Come on,” he hissed, hand trembling. 

He whipped his wand down, closing his eyes, and trying to summon the same hurt he'd felt when he had burned Sirius's name.

_He left you._

_He didn't want you to come with him._

_He didn't even say goodbye._

He thought of Voldemort, standing cool and calm in the doorway.

He thought of the scared muggle children, crying for their parents in the chaotic streets.

The woman on the sidewalk falling-

_Again and again._

_You could have warned her._

_It's your fault._

Oliver lying cold and still.

Voldemort’s cold, red eyes as his world shattered.

_Hate._

“Avada kedavra,” he breathed, a steady gleam of green sparkled from the tip of his wand, and in slow motion, the diadem seemed to explode into a wash of darkness and a strange, drawn-out screech. 

Regulus leaped back immediately, watching, dumbfounded, as a strange shadow of a figure emitted from the darkness surging toward him. He brandished his wand in an instant at the thing, but it was gone in an instant, merely like it was a trick of the light. 

Then all was silent again. 

Regulus reeling from adrenaline, edged toward the remains of the diadem- black, glittering sand, nudging it with his toe. 

The sand didn’t react.

His mother's voice in his head was silent.

It seemed almost _too_ easy. 

Regulus had just enough time to be relieved at the absence of the darkness, before the gravity of the situation hit him.

He’d just used his own hate of someone to fuel an Unforgivable.

His wand slipped out of his fingers, hitting the floor with a clatter. 

Some people went their whole lives without casting that spell.

Hell, some people went their whole lives without even _thinking_ of casting it.

His mother would be proud of him.

There didn’t seem to be a reason to celebrate that. 

“What the _fuck._ ” 

Regulus jumped, heart beating- turning around to find a familiar bespectacled, messy-haired guy in Quidditch pajamas, looking flabbergasted. Everything seemed to be sharply in focus again.

“ _James?_ ” Regulus exclaimed, stunned. James immediately whipped out his wand, looking conflicted as to where he should point it.

“Regulus,” James said finally, unsticking his mouth, “you need to tell me what the hell is going on _._ ”

Regulus sucked in a sharp breath, edging away from his fallen wand feeling far too powerful, horrified that someone had witnessed it. James knew full well the kind of darkness you'd need to cast that spell.

_James Potter had just seen him use the killing curse._  
_James Potter had just seen him use the killing curse._  
_James Potter had-_

“Tell me something that only you and I would know,” James ordered levelly, slowly approaching Regulus.

_Because of course James didn’t think he would think that he wouldn’t cast that spell of his own will._

“You- you told me on the first day at your house,” Regulus started hoarsely, “that you knew I didn’t like you very much.” 

James lowered his wand arm slightly, but the same, cold look remained. 

It reminded Regulus of Charlus’s laser-sharp focus when he interrogated people. 

“You let me sleep in your bed when those Slytherins ambushed me,” Regulus tried anxiously.

“Alright,” James replied shakily, pocketing his wand, brown eyes softening to a more palpable worry. The two were silent for a minute, the silence tense. 

“What are- what are you doing here?” Regulus whispered, hardly daring to look up at the expression on James’s face. 

“We stored some old butterbeer in this room,” James explained, voice unreadable, “the Gryffindors were having a party tonight.” 

A party.

A normal, teenage thing to do. 

Not using killing curses in the dead of night to destroy a mysterious dark artifact.

“But that doesn’t matter now,” James said, picking up Regulus’s wand and pocketing it, a stormy look on his face. 

“James, I know this looks bad,” Regulus whispered, running a hand through his hair.

He had a reason. 

_A good reason._

But he still felt the unease swirling in his gut- almost like the Horcrux was still alive, taunting him. 

“Reg,” James stated carefully, “we need to tell someone. About… whatever just happened.” 

“That’s not necessary,” Regulus pleaded, edging on panic, “it’s over anyway,” 

“We need to talk to dad,” James interrupted, touching his arm, a stubborn look in his eye, “McGonagall will let us use her fire if we say it’s a family thing. Nobody else needs to know.” 

_We need to talk to dad._

James said it like they were an actual, real family. 

Regulus had hardly spared a thought for the Potters since he'd started school. 

In his haste to rid himself of the Horcrux, he didn’t even think he had written them at all. 

Instead, he’d thought of his own mother, her affinity with dark curses, and the part of him stained in darkness.

“Come on,” James said, pulling Regulus gently by the elbow, but the Horcrux and the spell were burned into his mind, even as he was whisked away.

***

McGonagall had been far more understanding than Regulus had thought about James and Regulus showing up in her office late in the evening- James, one hand still clenched on a wide-eyed Regulus’s arm, explaining to her with a calm maturity that they needed to speak to their parents about a family issue.

And to his immense surprise and dread, she asked no questions.

_Their parents._

The twist of guilt deepened in his chest. 

He didn’t even know that James had slotted him so easily into the family.  
  


So they’d Floo-ed into the quiet Potter House, silent and dark, brushing ash off of their clothes. 

Regulus felt like he was hardly breathing- like some part of him was stained in evil. 

James cleared his throat quietly, fiddling with his shirt. 

“Hey,” James whispered, “ _don’t worry_. We’ll figure it out, I swear.” 

Regulus nodded, but still felt the walls closing in on him.

“Just- stay right here, alright? I’ll get my dad. He’s usually up late anyway.” James ordered softly, patting his arm, and keeping his eye on him until he left the room as if Regulus was going to make a run for it if he didn’t.

Regulus stood, still as a statue, thinking inexplicably of Severus Snape. 

Snape who he had been trying to protect from the Aurors.

Snape, only seventeen, trying to find his way back to the light side. 

_How would he even begin to explain without condemning him?_

“Regulus?” 

Regulus flinched back, seeing Charlus standing with James in the doorway, their twin worried expressions almost comical.

“Why don’t we all sit down,” Charlus suggested, looking a bit confused. Then they all listened to the quiet tick of the clock in the living room, waiting for him to say something.

Regulus took a deep breath, biting his lip.

“Do you want me to…to start?” James started quietly.

At first, Regulus thought he was addressing Charlus, but as he looked up, James was looking at him as if asking permission. Regulus nodded, mouth dry. 

“I saw you trying to use...a curse. And something coming out of that- that _thing_ , trying to attack you,” James said quietly, looking haunted. 

“ _Attack_ you?” Charlus prodded, worry intensifying. He was wearing dark robes, hair mussed up in the back. The curl of guilt tightened in his chest.

James nudged Regulus’s shoulder protectively.

“I’m not trying to blame you for anything,” he whispered, “I just want to know if you’re... _alright._ ”

There was something strange about the way he said it- like he wasn’t sure if Regulus was all there.

“What curse?” Charlus asked steadily. 

James looked once at Regulus, who was speechless again. 

“The killing curse,” James said matter-a-factly. Charlus froze, the line deepening between his brow. He looked very still, and very alert- but he said nothing. 

Regulus dug his fingers into the couch cushions, feeling nauseous, and desperate for them to understand. 

“I didn’t want to,” he burst out, wringing his hands. 

“When you say you… didn’t want to,” Charlus clarified carefully, “is- is somebody making you do something you don’t want to do?”

Regulus hesitated, immediately thinking of Snape, knowingly giving him an unknown, cursed object. 

_You’re the only one I can trust with this._

He had willingly taken it, after all. 

“Not… exactly.” 

Why _did_ he take it?

“Someone approached me after London,” Regulus explained delicately, “and told me that- that he was supposed to... hurt me,” 

He didn’t think ‘kill me’ would go over that well with the two at all. 

Charlus and James both seemed to stiffen at this. 

“He didn’t though,” Regulus reassured them quickly, “um- he needed my help.” 

And then it all came spilling out:

How Snape (who he vaguely referred to as ‘he’) told him he was the only person he could talk to.

He told them about the Horcrux, and how it seemed to draw him in further every day.

He explained the grueling, frustrating research. 

He'd described talking with Slughorn, who had given him a clue about what a Horcrux was- and just how shifty he seemed.

And, with a bit more reluctance, he told them about the final decision to cast the Unforgivable.

To forge a path to light in darkness.

“I didn’t want to,” he ended lamely, “but he needed me. He didn’t trust anyone to… not turn him in.” 

“Is he an adult or a student?” Charlus asked instantly. Regulus blinked at this. He hadn’t been expecting that question whatsoever.

“He...” Regulus stopped- would Charlus question every Slytherin if he didn’t specify?

“Regulus,” Charlus said beseechingly, “this person was adamant about _only you_ talking with him. You mentioned that… he gave you this object, right? This person could very well be manipulating you.”

Regulus hadn’t thought of that.

“No, that’s not- it is a rather complicated bit of magic,” Regulus explained agitatedly, “I know of dark magic from my parents, and he was disturbed by it too. I know he was...” 

Snape had to be...right?

But Regulus, for all he had said in his defense, didn’t know Snape that well- he only knew the desperation and tiredness in his walk. The quickness as to which he swore on his magic, perhaps.

Was this all part of his master plan to kill him?

“A complicated bit of magic that you figured out,” Charlus replied quietly, “I’m not faulting you for that- but do you realize that this information could be crucial in finding Voldemort. And that whole business with Professor Slughorn... If he knows if he made more of these... _Horcruxes_....” 

Regulus twitched at that.

What if he _had_ made more? 

Charlus stood up, looking infinitely more anxious, before pulling out his wand, swishing it over Regulus quickly. Regulus felt a warm feeling prickling up his spine, looking up at the man questioningly. He looked marginally relieved, so Regulus figured he was checking him for ‘confundus’ or any similar types of mind control spells.

“I know you’ve been having a hard time with that article,” Charlus said, with the same assessing gaze, “but you _have_ to tell me. It’s not on you anymore. You may be protecting this friend of yours, and I know your heart is in the right place…” 

Regulus swallowed the lump in his throat.

“We’re not friends,” he corrected automatically. 

“Then why?” Charlus said crouching in front of him carefully, “If he’s not threatening you… why?”

Regulus looked down, suddenly feeling very stupid.

“Regulus,” Charlus replied, meeting his eyes, “I didn’t get any letters from you- even Oliver hasn’t heard from you, after the whole London ordeal- we’re worried. _You’re fifteen._ It is not your responsibility to try and... save someone.”

 _“But nobody else is trying,”_ Regulus argued, “The people in my house- they don’t get how horrible Voldemort is. They don’t know anything, except that they’ve been… antagonized and they don’t like it. This isn’t something that just popped up out of nowhere!” 

Regulus could feel James shift uncomfortably next to him, and wondered if he’d revealed too much. Regulus’s hands curled into fists as he looked at them.

“Nobody cares about them,” Regulus explained shortly, “and they- they think this movement will.” 

“I’m sorry you feel that way,” Charlus told him simply. 

Regulus flinched, looking up in surprise. 

“Of course I don’t feel that way,” Regulus said immediately, “I don’t agree with them.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Charlus said softly, “I’m sorry you felt like you had to be alone. That you had to use that spell.”

The disappointment in his eyes was gut-wrenching. 

Regulus fidgeted under his stare.

“You shouldn’t be involved in this,” Charlus said fiercely, “but it seems like his ideas have spread further than we thought. These aren’t just extremists- their ideas have sympathy within the ministry, within the school...” 

Regulus shifted uncomfortably.

He’d killed a piece of a man’s soul with his hatred. 

_But he couldn’t kill an idea._

“Something is coming,” Charlus said meaningfully, “and trust me when I say that I am doing _everything_ in my power to prevent it. But, Regulus, you need to give me a lead here.” 

Regulus flushed, looking down.

Waiting for James to say something.

Waiting for Charlus to prod.

But both of them were silent.

He peered at Charlus, elbows resting on his knees.

Charlus looked like he was at the end of his rope, clawing desperately for anything. 

“I can’t,” Regulus said, voice very small, “if he feels like he can’t leave…”

 _We’ll lose him_.

“Regulus.” Charlus said sharply, “it is not up to you. _This isn't about one person anymore._ ”

Regulus flinched at his sharpness, biting the inside of his cheek, hard.

But it was about one person.

“Regulus-” Charlus started, frustrated.

“Will you arrest him?” Regulus interrupted, wringing his hands.

“If he had any involvement, he'd need to be… detained,” Charlus replied heavily, “but it all depends.”

Regulus shook his head. 

“If they see one person getting questioned, we’ll lose anyone who was even _thinking_ about switching sides,” Regulus said stubbornly, hating more and more the stab of anxiety punching him in the stomach at Charlus's increasing exasperation.

“Dad, he’s right,” James interjected to Regulus's surprise, “I’m not saying I agree with how he handled the whole… Horcrux thing. But he’s right about losing people to- to that cause.”

Regulus glanced at James, who stared straight back at him, a knowing look in his eyes.

_Did he figure out it was Snape?_

Charlus’s eyes bounced between them, seeming to make a mental connection.

He drew himself up, looking determined. 

“You two are staying the night,” he stated, without any room for argument, “I’ll need to talk to both of your Heads of Houses. You’re not going back until we’ve resolved this.” 

James crossed his arms.

“Dad, we know something’s happening, you can’t shield us from everyone who tries to-” James started, but Charlus was already standing up, effectively cutting him off with a serious look.

"Not now, James," he said.

Charlus took a deep breath, seeming to steel himself. 

"Wands," he said expectantly. James reluctantly rifled out both of their wands out of his pocket, pressing them into Charlus's palm. Regulus was a bit relieved. He didn't even want to hold the wand again for a while- the thing that held the power to kill a living being.

Charlus looked, if possible, even more concerned. 

"Both of you, _in bed,_ " he ordered swiftly, "we will talk about this in the morning."

The two nodded, before Charlus purposefully strode toward the fire, disappearing in the flames, ash speckled on the carpet.

Regulus and James sat quietly, the heavy silence engulfed with Regulus’s anxiety.

James sighed.

“I’m sorry, Reg, I just wasn’t sure if you were _cursed_ or something- I didn't know this- this Death Eater thing was recruiting, or that people were threatening you, or any of that-” James started, eyes wide and afraid.

“It’s fine,” Regulus said distantly.

As terrifying as it was, there was a sliver of him that was relieved that someone else knew about the Horcrux.

That someone else knew how thin the balance was between good and evil, even within himself. 

But Charlus was disappointed in him.

That, by far, was the worst feeling.

Charlus, the only adult he really felt like he wanted to make proud.

 _'And you lost him_ ' a voice in the back of his head whispered, but he pushed it aside.

“It's- it was Snape, wasn’t it,” James said suddenly, “he was trying to get back at us. For everything.”

 _Us._ A vague concept on its own, but Regulus knew what he meant...

The Marauders.

Regulus stayed silent, looking down at his knees, but that seemed like an answer enough.

James rubbed his face agitatedly. 

“I didn’t know you’d get caught up in it,” James said finally, looking far older than Regulus had ever seen him, “And here I thought we were done with it all…”

He sighed gustily, putting his head in his hands. 

Regulus bit his lip. 

"Why didn't you tell him? That it's Snape?" Regulus asked, honestly curious. 

"Same reason as you, I suppose," James said with an anguished, humorless smile, "He deserves a chance to get out of this mess. It's partially my fault..."

“He was just angry,” Regulus interjected after a moment, “but he went about it the wrong way.”

James shrugged, unconvinced.

“Everyone thinks they have a good reason to do things,” James said dismally, “but it doesn't mean they're right.”

“Yeah,” Regulus replied quietly, looking down at his hands. 

Was this what Sirius feels like when he loses control? 

Like he was himself one moment, and somebody else the next.


End file.
